Rising Sun
by Blueasice24
Summary: And sitting alone, an empty space between him and the other beauties, was him.Honey blonde hair hid his turned face from me like a curtain. He was hunched over an untouched plate of food – all of their trays were untouched.    "Alice… are you okay?" I heard Jessica ask.    "Um yeah…." I started, my eyes still glued to their table. "Uh, Jessica... Who are they?"
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: First story on this site; not the first thing I've ever written in my life. Writing is a passion I have that will hopefully never let me go (during vacation I sat with my new laptop writing for hours on end; it felt great). If you be kind enough to review, I would appreciate they weren't flaming the computer screen to ashes. Just a thought. So... on with the story so I don't ramble on forever ;-)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing; all publicly recognized characters and scenes belong to Stephenie Meyer, bless her soul. **_  
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_Oh dear_, I thought to myself as I labored about my room, hanging clothes in my walk-in closet, running back to my suitcases, setting up pictures on my nightstand and desk, and throwing myself about like a boomerang.

My eyes kept peeking back to the full length mirror I'd leaned against my purple-shaded walls. Did I apply my eye shadow just right – for accentuation of my walnut-sized, dark brown eyes? Blush? The soft baby pink blended into my creamy skin lifted into a practice smile. Were my clothes just right? I ran a hand over my floral print strappy – soft and costing me a good buck – and dark blue skinny jeans – designer and hugging my tiny legs with as much perfection as stiff jeans could muster. Despite my parents warning of the drastic temperature differences in Forks compared to Phoenix, I had no cute winter wear that didn't shout _twelve-year-old_ when I wore it. I was resolved to fight out the cold.

"Mary-Alice!" the sweet and sour voice of my mother called. I winced mentally at the use of my first name. I would be spending the rest of this week correcting students and staff about the correct usage of my name. Alice. No Mary. Not unless they wanted a stiletto stabbed into their flesh.

With quick but hurried strokes, I flattened out some minor imperfections in my long, midnight black hair. And forcing myself to grab my black designer bag and ignoring the urge to adjust _just one more thing_, I raced down the staircase. I paused on the last step, though, as my sharp eyes caught the curly brown crown of an older man speaking to my dressed up father.

My heels clacked against the hardwood floor, and both their eyes shot up to me. The man, I realized, looked strangely familiar, though I couldn't place why. He shared my father's deep, chocolate color of the eyes, and the light, pallid tone of his skin. He also wore the jacket of the police department.

"Honey…" my father cleared his throat. "This is Chief Swan – er, Charlie Swan; he's my cousin."

Oh. That would explain it. I hadn't seen a glimpse of any relatives on my father's side since I was a very little girl.

Charlie gave me a weak smile and waved quietly. Then he turned back to father. "I guess… I'll come back later, right?" He looked at me again, and I noticed a flash of longing. How odd was that?

"Daddy, I'm going to head off for school, alright?" I asked, glowing angelically when he nodded his approval. I skipped over to him, jumped to kiss his cheek, and fluttered out the door without a thought for food.

My ridiculously plain car (or as I liked to call it 'Average car') was a dull silver and new four years ago. It had been a sweet sixteen gift from my parents, who didn't quite understand my need for _new_ things. But, to my surprise, the car had grown on me.

I slid into the cloth driver's seat, started the engine, and backed out the driveway with giddiness that bubbled all over my ridiculously tiny body.

Forks High was easy to find, and nervousness started to settle in as I drove into a clear parking spot. I'd never moved before – Phoenix was my home – but I battled the nerves away, replacing it with my usual happy atmosphere. I may never have moved to a completely different habitat before, but I could make friends in my sleep.

Random groups of students were mingling by cars, chatting and laughing. I passed one group in particular where a blonde haired boy was busy wadding up paper and throwing it at one of his guy friends. I had to duck in order dodge the missile.

I wanted to go and talk to someone, but one look at my phone told me otherwise. I needed to find my schedule and find my first class in ten minutes.

I was greeted by a gush of warm air as I entered the small office room. The green potted plants surrounded me like they were going to suffocate me with their lushness. I tried to ignore them and walked up to a long counter that divided the already small space. It was cluttered with loose papers and wire baskets and decorated with colored paper announcements of clubs and events. There were three desks behind the counter, and at one of them sat a large woman wearing glasses and quickly pushing back red hair. My stilettos made no noise against the orange carpet to warn her of my presence.

"Um…" I managed.

The woman looked up. "May I help you?"

"I'm Alice Brandon. The new student?"

The woman's eyes lit up with recognition. I suppressed a sigh. Before I moved, my mother had me look up the school's website. Three hundred and fifty seven students. At home, my jaw had dropped with absolute horror.

"Of course, just a minute," she replied, turning to shift through a stacked pile of papers. She pulled two sheets out and handed them to me. "Here's your schedule and a map of the school." Then she handed me a slip, which she explained was for each teacher to sign and for me to return at the end of the day. "Do you think you'll like it here?" she asked after she finished.

I shrugged. "It'll take some getting used to," I replied. The woman smiled and turned back to her desk, and I left with my eyes scanning my schedule and map for directions.

When the first bell rang, I'd managed to wander around the cafeteria building and spot the faded block "3" painted in black. As I approached the bland door, I tried to balance out the nerves I was feeling with the eagerness to meet new people. I breathed deeply, which seemed to help as I pushed through the door.

I immediately noticed the emptiness of the room, which sank my mood. I didn't want to look like I was _eager_ for class – English class to be precise. I walked down the middle aisle, my clicking heels alerting the teacher with balding hair – Mr. Mason as his mantel implied – to my presence. When he stood to greet me, he easily towered over my petite frame.

"Good morning, Mary Brandon. I'm Mr. Mason, your English teacher," he greeted, stepping out from behind his desk and walking over to the white board that stretched the entire wall.

"Alice," I corrected.

"Oh." He began writing today's work on the board. I frowned as I waited for him to say more. I had no clue where to sit, and I felt particularly stupid standing awkwardly by his desk as students began filing in.

After he finished writing, he leaned over to his desk, and pulled off a small packet. Handing it to me, he explained, "This is your reading list for the year. And you'll be sitting next to Isabella Cullen in the back, over there." He pointed out my seat, and I thanked him.

Isabella Cullen. Perfect. I smiled to myself, the nerves dwindling as my excitement took its place. I sat in the desk I was directed and watched impatiently as students entered and took their seats. Tall guys, blonde girls, brunet guys, chubby girls. But not one took the seat beside me.

Worry began trying to gnaw at my good mood. Was she here today? Would she be excited to meet me as I was her? I was tempted to go and chat with any one of the students who were discreetly staring at me, or at least trying. But then the creaky door opened again, and I turned my head to see who had arrived.

I gasped, then quickly covered my mouth and winced.

Impossibly, this girl – this _beauty_ – was the Isabella Cullen who quietly took her seat by me. I tried to be polite, but I couldn't help but stare. She was like looking at an air-brushed cover magazine. She was the image of perfection every teenage girl – including me – wanted to have.

Isabella gave me a small smile. Her soft brown hair flowed down her back in straight perfection and immediately started falling across her angelic face. Almost automatically, she pushed it back with her slender, pale fingers, tucking the strands behind her ear.

Somehow, I managed to find my voice. "Hey, I'm–"

"Mary Brandon, I know," she answered in a clear, bell toned voice.

"Alice, actually," I corrected once more. "I don't really like the Mary part."

Isabella's smile grew as she laughed quietly. "Same here. I'm _Bella_ Cullen. Not Isabella."

My worries drifted off. I could already tell today was going to be perfect. But before I could start up another conversation, Mr. Mason called the class to attention.

Throughout his lesson, I read over the reading list I'd received, rolling my eyes at the selections. But I couldn't help peeking over at the girl beside me. During Mr. Mason's speech on _The Crucible_, her smooth hair drifted across her face again, curtaining her perfect features from view. I thought almost grudgingly the amount of work it took for me to straighten my hair and keep it from frizzing in this weather. The constant rain cover was going to ruin my hair routine.

The bell sprung me from my thoughts, and I nearly jumped at the nasally sound of its ring. Bella smiled at me, gathered her stuff effortlessly and with grace, and quickly exited the vicinity.

I was confused at first, figuring she would want to stay and chat, but I pushed the feeling away as a gangly, oil black-haired boy turned from his seat in front of me with a grin.

"You're Mary Brandon right?" he asked.

I smiled sweetly, "Alice, actually."

He frowned but nodded. "What class do you have next?"

"Um…. Government, Jefferson, building six," I read. When I looked up from my schedule, I caught the gazes of almost every classmate in my English class. Except for Bella Cullen…. Hmm….

"I'm heading over to building four, but I can show you the way…" his eyes looked to me for acceptance. I smiled. "I'm Eric."

"Thanks."

To my upmost disappointment, it was drizzling outside. I huddled in my thin arms, feeling a prick of regret for not leaving with a jacket of some sort and glaring at the clouds as Eric walked me in the proper direction.

"So… you're from Phoenix?"

"Yeah."

"It must be different here."

"You have no idea."

"Does it rain much over there?"

"About three or four times every year."

"Wow. That's not much."

I shrugged, a little bored with his questions, though I wondered in the back of my head why I wasn't my usual, chattering self. It probably had to do with my mind being occupied with the Cullen girl. Why had she been so hasty to leave when the other students mingled and stayed to stare at me? She seemed nice….

Eric guided me south, past the cafeteria, and walked with me till we were at the door. I smiled graciously as I began to open it.

"Well, have a good day Alice," he said. "Maybe we'll have some classes together," he added almost hastily as he started to walk away.

The rest of the morning was pretty much the same, minus meeting another gorgeous beauty. Jefferson didn't bother standing me in front of the class, and I sat next to a shy girl who seemed to be the only one who didn't speak to me. After every class, there seemed to be at least one person brave enough to talk to me and show me off to my next class, and I didn't see Eric again in any of my morning classes. There was one girl – Jessica Stanley – who was in both my Trig and Spanish classes. When I sat down in Trig, after Mr. Varner displayed me as Mary Alice Brandon in front of the class, she immediately began chatting with me and explaining everything she knew about the school.

We walked to the cafeteria together, and I was feeling my normal self come out. We both talked a million miles a second, unable to stop the conversation at any one point. Bella wasn't in my mind.

"You should sit with us, Alice," Jessica insisted after we'd gathered a tray of food. I smiled and followed her to a crowded table bustling with social activity.

The blonde boy from the parking lot earlier smiled at me. "Alice, this is Mike Newton," Jessica explained. She pointed over to the shy girl I'd sat next to in Government. "That's Angela Weber." Angela waved and then started petting down her long, light brown hair that highlighted with blonde. Jessica continued to make introductions, including Eric from English, who waved at me excitedly.

It was then, during the midst of lunch, that I looked to my left and saw Bella – saw _them_. In the corner of the long room sat the five most beautiful people in existence. Again, I was reminded of fashion magazines. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized any and every model – French or otherwise – paled ridiculously in contrast.

My first thought was they were related, but they looked nothing like each other. Each was unique in their splendor. Three boys. Two girls.

Bella was tucked comfortably under the arm of a bronze-haired boy. He was slender and tall, leaning against the cafeteria wall with a blank, alabaster face. Next to them was another couple. The boy was… well, one could hardly say he was a _boy_. His tall body was filled with muscle, like all he ever did was weight lift, and had dark brown, slightly curly hair. The arrangement of his face gave him a childish look, an oxymoron to how he was built, but he wasn't smiling. He was almost as blank faced as the bronze-haired boy, a touch of a permanent grin to the curve of his lips. His burly arms curled around his girlfriend, or sister, or whatever – I wasn't sure. But she was the most stunning of the group. And not even that word – or any other – was sufficient to describe her. It pained me to see how good she looked, eyeing her shiny, pale blonde hair that softly waved over her shoulders as she leaned into the brawny boy. Her perfect lips were frowning as she stared into her thoughts, completely detached from the world.

And sitting alone, an empty space between him and the other beauties, was him. He was lean like the first boy, but more muscular. Honey blonde hair hid his turned face from me like a curtain. He was hunched over an untouched plate of food – all of their trays were untouched.

"Alice… are you okay?" I heard Jessica ask.

"Um yeah…." I started, my eyes still glued to their table. "Uh, Jessica…. Who are _they_."

Jessica looked to where I was subtly pointing. "Oh. Those are the Cullens. Edward, Bella, and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. They live with Dr. Cullen and his wife." As she spoke, the bronze-haired boy – Edward – looked up at us. I froze, but he looked away quickly, like he didn't bother to pretend he caught the new student staring at him and his family. Jessica giggled beside me.

"They're… rather nice looking…" I trailed off, grimacing at the awkward way I put it.

Jessica beamed. "No duh! But they're together. Edward and Bella, and Emmett and Rosalie, I mean. Plus, they _live _together. How weird is that?" I still hadn't looked away. Odd, yes, I figured, though by the shocked and judgmental edge to Jessica's tone, she thought more of it than I did.

"They don't look related. Which are the Cullens….?" My eyes still hadn't shifted away, though my body was partly turned to Jessica as I spoke and pointed.

"Oh they're not. Dr. Cullen and his wife adopted them all. Well, two of them are brother and sister – the blondes. His wife is like their aunt or something," Jessica continued, her voice dripping with negative vibes – jealousy? "I don't think she can have kids, either."

The bronze-haired – Edward – twitched from his seat, and I finally looked back at Jessica. "Have they always lived here?" My eyes slid back to their unmoving forms.

"No. They moved up here two years ago from someplace in Alaska." The negative turn in her voice was beginning to gnaw at me.

"Oh," I replied, and changed the subject.

The bell blared through the cafeteria, interrupting a section of gossip Jessica was offering on all table groups. I fumbled for my schedule in my pack and scramble to my feet, head twisting and searching for the Biology class.

The shy girl Angela heard me asking Jessica for directions and smiled small. "I have that class too. You could walk with me?"

I nodded.

Angela was quiet and listened while I rambled on for half of our walk. When I realized she wasn't speaking, nerves crawled over me. I wondered if I'd said something wrong.

"Oh no," she assured me when I asked. She shrugged. "I like how much you care for your family."

"Do you have any siblings?" Most people had at least one. I didn't meet many other only-child cases like me.

She nodded, a true smile touching her lips. "Twins."

The classroom was already filling by the time we entered into the classroom. Angela's smile turned apologetic as she went to take her seat by a blonde boy. The teacher – Mr. Banner – waved me over to the front of the room as he leaned into the back of his desk chair.

"Mary-Alice Brandon?"

"Alice."

Mr. Banner scrunched his nose. His arm reached out to rub a thick cast over his right leg, and I felt a twinge of pity for him.

"Mr. Cullen, please come here," Mr. Banner called. Then he explained as he looked up at me, "I was recently in an automobile accident just this past week, and Jasper had graciously offered to T.A. for me until I am more able to teach on my own. He'll give you the syllabus and show you where your seat is."

Like an electric shock, my heart jumped when Jasper slid up to the edge of the desk. His perfect lips were twisted with eternal angst that was echoed in his dark eyes. He avoided looking at me as he shuffled a small packet of papers together and held them out for me.

"You'll be sitting by Edward Cullen in the back, Miss." A faint flutter colored my cheeks at the sound of his deep, honey licked voice.

I opened my mouth to respond, but he spun on his heel and glided away with perfect step. Disoriented, I looked behind me to find my seat where Edward – another beauty – was watching the black surface of the counter as if it could bite him.

"Hey," I started as I sat down, trying to look as graceful as I'd seen Jasper and Bella be.

Edward stared at the counter.

"Um… hello? I'm Alice Brandon…" Why wasn't he talking to me? Why _wasn't_ he talking to me!

No change. Still as a statue.

I sighed and leaned onto the tabletop, cupping my cheek as I rested on my elbow. Mr. Banner urged a reluctant Jasper forward. They whispered in low tones. Mr. Banner began to look worried, and Jasper's lips were tight as wires.

"Alright, Mr. Cullen; I hope you feel better in the future." Mr. Banner drew out a yellow slip and scribbled large letters, handing it to Jasper. Then, looking to the class, he announced, "There's been a change of plans; we're going to watch a documentary on the cell cycle. Please pull out a sheet of paper and write at least fifty interesting details you hear. Due at the end of the period."

A low murmur ran through the students as Jasper exited – but not before I caught him watching me, his beautiful features warped in pain and a hint of self-loathing.

How weird was _that_?

Like most of the students, I paid hardly any attention to the monotone narration and the scratchy quality of the TV screen. And for those fifty notes, I wrote down random details I could remember from my own Biology class back home – the class I took _freshman_ year.

And I tried, though unsuccessfully, to get some sort of reaction from the Edward Cullen statue. I leaned forward to him, trying to pass in front of his eyes when the light flickered on in the room and the bell rang.

Just as Bella had done, Edward shot to his feet and slid out the door before I could manage to blink and hold back a startled gasp.

How _rude_!

But that wasn't what confused me the most. It was the dark tint in his eyes – almost coal black – that startled me. I had heard of people _looking_ like they have black eyes, but never actually met anyone who literally did. I tried to remember Bella this morning. Were her eyes the same way?

I didn't have a solid answer, which made me curious to find out. But right now, I had a P.E. class to get to.

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><p><strong>AN: I apologize for the stiff writing and close resemblance to the first chapter of the actual book, but it's only for this chapter, I promise :-)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Jasper**

Even vampire fast did not seem fast enough to get away.

I couldn't mess up, not now. I couldn't ruin everything my family had become.

But I wanted to. My throat burned with a vengeance with every inch farther I was away from the girl. My nose tempted me with another breath full of her floral scent…. And what a taste would accompany it…..

No.

Ignoring all caution, I ran at full speed to the hospital where Carlisle would be working. He would know how to deal with this.

The greenery of Forks, our most recent home, flashed by in my haste, almost as if I couldn't already see perfection of every leaf and bark I passed. When we had first arrived, I rather liked the place. The sun was rarely out. The town itself was small and friendly, though not frighteningly so. Humans weren't overwhelming. I could breath and not massacre.

Until now.

The lunch room had been tolerable to a point. All the humans had been bustlin' with excitement for the chatty new girl's arrival. And she clicked perfectly with them. She was just as excited to be here. The combination of emotions, though, was the dangerous part. Their excitement became _my_ excitement, only ten fold the power. It took everythin' I had not to snatch that girl away from the lunch room in the blink of an immortal eye.

We did not need to breathe, and I held it despite wanting to drag in a quick lung full to assert my position. Countless years of habit were hard to dislodge, depression or otherwise. And the hospital was a hard place for me to stay sane.

Carlisle was in his office, flipping through some manila folders. The urge to breathe was itching me, and I risked a quick breath. Bleach and other cleaner assembles.

My 'father' looked up from his reading the moment his office door clicked quietly shut. I jammed my hands deep in my pockets. "Carlisle– " I managed with what little breath I had.

"Are you alright, Jasper?" He stood, leaning on his walnut desktop with spreading fingers. "Has something happened?"

I had to breathe.

"Did something..." Carlisle sighed with relief when I shook my head and waved the notion off hurriedly – as if speaking the possibility would bring it to reality.

"I'm so sorry," I squeaked. The small, clean office suddenly felt claustrophobic. Khaki walls were closing distance. Crescent shapes burned over every inch of my skin. And though vampires had vast minds… it was a lot of space to loose.

"Sorry for what?" Carlisle's smooth, father-like tone, however confused, reached out to soothe the hurt. I found my stone lungs contracting and oxygen molecules bouncing to and fore in my throat and mouth. "If nothing bad has happened, then what is there to forgive?" As he spoke, he circled his desk and put a pale, comforting hand on my shoulder

"Yet," I mumbled miserably.

One of Carlisle's perfected brows shot up. His golden eyes glittered like jewels with interest, coaxing me to relax… to explain.

My chest pumped like a human's did after running a marathon unconditioned. "There's… a new girl… at school." I paused to allow my father's calm demeanor to wash over me and relax my racing mind. "She smells exquisite, Carlisle. I don't know if I can contain myself… keep from killin' her…."

Carlisle nodded, his gaze falling to the wall behind me as he considered it. "What do you plan on doing?"

"Leave before I do something I'll regret."

He sighed, as if expecting this.

I didn't want to leave. Already, I knew I would not make it out there alone. I hadn't before. But killin' anyone else suddenly didn't seem as sinful as killin' the girl.

"Esme will try to convince you to stay…." Carlisle's words breezed along the dust in the air, his words more to himself than to me as he contemplated how unhappy his mate would be relinquishing her newest 'son'.

"I can't let her."

"You can take my car," he offered, his keys fished out from his pocket and laying on up open, inviting palm.

But I shook my head. "I can run."

"This will be faster and safer." He pushed the keys into my stony hand and patted the pallid, raised skin that burned with a fierce vengeance.

I nodded, soaking in another dose of the tranquility he bathed in constantly. "I don't know when I'll be back…."

"Take the time you need, Jasper. We'll be waiting for you with open arms when you return." Carlisle smiled with a confident, gentle grace.

"Give Esme my love."

And I left.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I like this chapter. I would like to know after you read how you see Alice's relationship with her parents in this scene. Do you think it's homely? Weird? Fresh? Does it sit well with you? The answers to these questions are really important for a future scene, so I'd appreciate the feedback.**

**Disclaimer: Own nothing but my plot bunny (well, kinda I guess. Not exactly my characters….)**

**Alice  
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"No shopping!" My appalled, horrified, demonic wail that would send the banshees hiding in a dark corner made hardly a twitch bristle my mother.

Her hands were firmly planted on her thin hips, reaching no taller than five-foot two as she stared coldly at me. "And that is final, Mary-Alice; no more shopping trips until this move is settled and your father's first pay check rolls in."

I balled my fists as a wave of toddler-tantrum crashed into me. I imaged kicking and screaming, throwing a few plates around even. But I held back the reaction. If I upset the balance, I'd be grounded before you could say 'Shopping Mall'.

On days like today, I wondered how Karen Alice Brandon was ever my biological mother. The idea seemed ludicrous. Surely, she understood my absolute need to swipe my favorite credit card or file through a handful of green as a cashier stuffed clothing items, jewelry boxes, and cell phone accessories into plastic, logoed bags.

But while kids at school were intimidated, my mother held no fright for my four foot eleven frame. She met my glare with legendary endurance.

Ugh, I hated parents.

My mind was taut as wires, ready to snap and curl back in an explosive _whack_. Overall, school had gone perfectly – better than I could have dreamed. But there was an underlining detail that simply wouldn't let go of me.

The Cullens.

I had met three out of five of the esteemed, mysterious beauties of Forks High and racked up nothing but silky sweet silence and cool stares. Isabella – Bella – had been the nicest, surprising me the most when she spoke not a word to me after English. Edward had been… annoying to say the least. Never once had I failed to get someone to talk to me, even if it was just a quiet hello. Even Angela – the shiest girl on the face of the planet – had warmed up to me in just a lunch hour and a handful of minutes!

And then there had been Jasper.

During Gym, I played our short exchanged in my mind like a broken record, going over every detail. There was something about him…. He seemed in a pain of sorts, and I felt the strangest urge to comfort him. Not right then and there of course… but at some point in time.

A saucy, Italian scent wafted under my nose, releasing me from my scattered thoughts. Smiling to myself, a sense of satisfaction welled in me at choosing to grab some cheese and tomato paste when my mom had forgotten to add it to the list. She was constantly asking me to run errands for her, especially once I came home from school. Today had been no different.

"Mary-Alice, are you just going to stand there all night, or are you going to help your dear mother bake your favorite lasagna?" Mother called from the kitchen.

Blinking, I hadn't realized she had walked away from a good fight.

I pouted, making my way into the modest kitchen. Despite my parents being well-off, Mother had insisted on a simpler dwelling than our Arizona mansion. I was put out with the idea. Who wanted average and boring anyway? It was so… mediocre.

I shuddered.

Luckily, that didn't translate to old and unreliable kitchen appliances. The room was large and spacious, easily comfortable for a medium sized family. Mother worked at the farmer sink, washing the salad greens in a black strainer. On the granite countertop was a glass pan covered in tin foil – the source of the amazing smell.

I reached for the black cabinets where the plates and glasses resided, standing up on my tiptoes to accommodate my lack of height.

"It's six thirty; when is that father of yours going to show up?" Mother shook her head lightly; she chuckled, pulling out the strainer and dumping the crisp greens into a tainted black, glass bowl.

"Ten minutes," I replied.

"I say nine," my mother challenged, grinning at me.

"If I win, I get to go shopping!"

Mother frowned, disapproving. "Loser does the dishes. There's no backing out on my shopping stipulation."

I grumbled but agreed. Mother and I had an uncanny ability of predicting future events. We weren't psychic or anything – we simply had lots of practice at educated guessing. But it was fun to bet on probabilities. One time, I won a whole shopping spree – a whopping thousand dollars paid by my parents at my disposal just for the occasion – by predicting which football teams would win and loose each game. I had guessed the outcome of seven games consecutively, all different team line-ups. And I had a sour spot in my stomach acid just to simmer in sickening distaste for the sport.

After that winning streak, my parents were careful what they bet me.

I set the dinning table we placed on the far side of the kitchen. It overlooked the French doors leading to the back patio where green, clean-cut grass and an overcast sky peeked inside. There were only three spots to worry about: mine and my parents.

"… delighted to have you." I heard Daddy set his briefcase down and could see him in my mind's eye loosening his blue work tie.

"Sure it's no trouble at all?" The answering voice caught me by surprise, not a very often reaction in my case. It seemed reserved and shy, almost apologetic.

Mother's singsong voice cut between me and the guest. "Nine minutes. I win."

I stuck my tongue out at her, even though her back was turned to me, tossing colorful ingredients to her salad greens.

"Karen honey?"

"Yes, darling?"

"I brought Charlie here for dinner, if that's alright with you." Daddy's voice became louder as he entered the kitchen, the sound moving from a deep bell tone to a clear, brightening ding.

"Daddy!" I squealed, skipping to him for my daily hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Alice, honey; good to see you!" He smiled kindly as he let me go.

Answering his earlier question, Mother said, "Of course he can eat with us! Mary-Alice, why don't you set Mr. Swan a seat by your father?"

As I followed out my orders, Charlie… err, Mr. Swan bumbled into the kitchen, his heavy boots clanging on the white tile. Keys rattled on his bulky belt, and he still wore his police jacket that reeked of woodsmen and bachelor. I also smelt a pinch of fish in the mix.

"I hope I'm not an inconvenience, Mrs. Brandon," he quipped – voice trembling with awkward social habits.

"Call me Karen, please." Mother brought over her salad, and I fetched the warm lasagna pan, my tummy rumbling for satisfaction.

Mr. Sawn nodded, flashing an uncertain smile.

There have been smoother transitions to the dinner table. Mr. Swan tottered his mass to the seat not facing the outdoors, a feat that caused his mouth to flap from a smile to frown repeatedly. Once he sat down, he cleared his throat and shook his shoulders to displace the weight of his jacket.

At first, the meal was silent – Mr. Swan's awkwardness was contagious. No one, not even me, could think of an ice breaker topic.

Finally, Dad swallowed a clump of salad and looked to me. "How was the first day, Ali?"

I smiled. "It was good. The students are nice there, and I already have a bunch of friends. The classes don't seem so tough either."

"Good… good…."

"My daughter used to go there," Mr. Swan offered, however cautiously. "Her name was Bella." An undercurrent of sadness leaked in his voice.

Which reminded me. "Dad, have you heard of the Cullens?"

He shook his head as his fork scrapped the plate. "They're some of your new friends?"

"No…. not really."

"Nice family," Mr. Swan said.

My ears zeroed in on him, wondering how much he knew, how much I could get him to reveal. "How nice?" I bit my lips when Mother's foot kicked my shoe.

"We're lucky to have such a brilliant surgeon like Dr. Cullen in such a small town. His wife likes small towns, so they came here instead of some big city. Kids are well behaved, too."

That was it?

Mr. Swan was oblivious to the curiosity shaking my little body. I needed conversation topics, something to relate to these passive, perfect strangers. By the end of the week, I was sure to get them talking!

The rest of dinner slid by with adult talk I tuned out. When Mr. Swan was done, Dad walked him outside while I cleared the table and grumbled about loading the dishwasher.

By eight o'clock, I was forcing my fingers to grasp a number two pencil and complete my trigonometry homework. Flashes of the day kept running through my mind, both of the Cullens and of the more average students. Maybe if Jessica invited me, I could go shopping with her….

When the clock tolled nine, I was showering and getting dressed for bed. The simple routine lulled my brain to a less nervous and bubbly shake. Sleep came without much fuss and soon I was swimming in a sea of various greens….

_"You have to stay away from me," he begged, keeping a good distance between us._

_ "Why?"_

_ "Just trust me. Please." His face flickered back and forth into awareness, a gauzy haze mucking the clarity. _

_ "I do trust you."_

_ "Then you'll be safe."_

_ The voices drifted, and I felt a vague notion the scene was changing. Suddenly tires were screeching and sirens were shouting. Someone was screaming, pleading. The image of a tear shimmered into transparency, dropping into a pool of blood. Hurried and worried voices. Soothing finger tips. _

_ The dream faded off._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Alice and Edward have always had a peculiar relationship, though I think they both are a tad OOC in this…. Sorry if they are. I'm very used to my OC characters that have taken root in my brain for the past four plus years…..**

**Alice**

What was the fun of school if you couldn't book a cool field trip? Especially for a Biology class, there ought to be better options than a fancy green house.

A month since my integration to this tiny school society, and I was already nearing the top. Jessica was my closest friend; we practically raced with our mouths every time me met, speaking our own code that left the rest of the world in the dirty dust. Mike and Eric – especially Eric – hovered at whatever table we sat, content to pretend to understand what garble of girl speak we gossiped.

On the side, I walked with Angela to the classes we shared, enjoying the quiet responses she gave me – smiles, frowns, or a mix of both. Sometimes Mike or Eric would tag along, finally getting some word in every sentence or so when it was only one speed demon. Tyler Crowley made his appearance periodically too.

Bella Cullen was the only Cullen so far to enjoy speaking with me. English was one of my favorite periods because we would secretly pass notes to each other all through it. As for her lover boy, Edward, he was complacent at best. But I got him to say hi at the beginning of every Biology period.

I didn't see Emmet or Rosalie Cullen outside of the lunch room due to their being seniors, and I had no classes with them. From the quick glances I stole while I multitasked socializing with Jessica, I determined Emmet to be somewhat of a teddy bear. His girlfriend though, remained a blank slated question. She certainly wasn't the liveliest of the group….

Yet as puzzling as the seniors were, they weren't the strangest case of the five. Jasper was.

He hasn't been back.

If I hadn't spoken to him myself, heard his low voice directed at me, I'd more believe he never existed.

"Oh, he's just visiting his grandparents," Bella had replied when I'd asked.

Jasper must really love his grandparents then to stay out with them this long…..

I sat with Angela on the bus ride to Mr. Banner's favorite greenhouse. He had given us a worksheet earlier to take notes on the things we saw and how they worked. I was bored out of my mind.

"Mr. Banner seems to finally be feeling better," Angela pointed out, trying to cheer up my gloom mood.

He was no long in a cast, true, but the man still looked a little off in his step when he walked. It made me feel a bit of pity for him, though not enough for me to appreciate his love of lectures.

So I shrugged. "I don't think _I_ would mind getting hit by a car right now. At least that would give me something to do." I ignored the confused look Angela geared my way.

As the bus slowed to a screeching stop, Mr. Banner got to his feet and faced the pond of glazed faces. "Everyone remember now to keep to your buddies. We'll be getting off kindly now. No pushing each other out."

Everyone got to their feet, donning their daily rain gear and their backpacks. As short as I was compared to the class, I suddenly felt like a third grader. Angela was a very tall girl.

"Everyone except you, Miss. Brandon. Miss. Weber, I have you partnered with Kaitlin. Miss. Brandon, I'll have Mr. Cullen escort you around. I want the other students to have a chance to learn something, and since you both are so far ahead, I might as well keep you two partnered."

I grimaced. Angela was quiet, yes, and not much for talking. But Edward was like talking to a wall. A very boring wall.

Edward let me walk off the bus first without a peep. I resigned myself to the next hour being filled with weird silence stretches.

That's when he spoke.

"Bella's told me about you." His voice was rather musical, its symphonic waves pleasurable to the ear. But it reminded me of another, more resonating voice.

"Oh, so now I'm worthy to speak to?"

He shrugged, hardly bristled by my accusatory tone. "She likes you as a person, you know, says your talks are interesting and engaging. I'm just a little curious."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm so flattered."

My sarcasm seemed to aggravate him. "I'm not mocking you, just trying to make small talk. I thought you liked to talk." His last sentence was almost a sneer.

"Not when the person I'm talking to is condescending, I don't."

"Who said I was condescending?"

I jerked out the worksheet and stuffed it into the same hand as my pencil as we trailed behind the line of partners. "I've been trying to make 'small talk' with you since my first day. And now, you're suddenly perked up and ready to journey into the world? What changed?"

Edward was quiet.

I sighed. Here we go again.

We stopped, a few paces from the backs of two blonde girls. "Bella likes you," he said finally, as if that explained all reasoning.

"Yes, you've told me that already."

His jaw locked.

I looked around, trying to occupy my fluttery mind. Angela was dutifully writing on her paper. A dark blonde girl scribbled beside her. Mike was just a few bodies ahead, his head bent next to his partner – a burnet boy I forgot the name of – whispering some great trove of words.

"You came from Arizona?" Edward asked.

"Yeah; its a lot different there than here."

He hesitated. "Do you miss it?"

I felt my irritation melt at the easy, comfortable subject. "Yeah; the green is nice and all, but the sun means happy weather. I like it better."

"Happy weather?"

I flushed a litter at my silly slip, rolling it off my shoulders as if it didn't mean anything. "I mean that people are happier when the sun is out, and it's not so dark. At least, that's what I think…."

Suddenly, I was rather self conscious speaking to him. I tried to shake off the feeling, but it wouldn't leave.

"Are you not happy here in Forks?"

The question came as abrupt. No one had bothered to ask me that. The world simply assumed I enjoyed whatever social circle I was included in. "Um… honestly? Not as much as Phoenix." There were no shops in Forks, not good ones anyway. It was raining, rinky-dink, and dewy forests.

Edward smiled, chuckling quietly. I wondered what was so funny.

The procession of students began marching again, and I had yet to write a word. Oh well. It was a ten point paper anyhow.

"Why does your brother like his grandparents so much?" The words flew from my mouth before I could choke them back. Looking warily at Edward, I watched for signs that I offended him. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean… it's not my business…."

"Jasper's coming home soon," Edward said, surprising me.

I wanted to ask how soon, but this question I managed to bite my tongue.

Edward didn't notice and added as if it I had asked anyway, "It's an annual thing he does. He's due back the end of the week."

Oh.

His customary silence resumed and not another word was spoken between us. I tried not to feel put out, but he was making it very hard. His contempt for the world rolled off in waves. One question worried me, though: Edward's motive. What were they? I wasn't naïve enough to think he'd woken up and just decided to have a conversation with me. Woman's intuition told me he was listening for something. Was he the mouth for Bella? Had I missed something in his words that implied a message for me? Fireworks were crackling in my head.

Yes, he definitely had a motive, and whatever it was, his mission was going to be completed soon.

In light of my little discovery, I was inclined to pout. He didn't speak up because I finally annoyed him enough to try and shut me up. I hadn't conquered the all mighty Edward yet.

That meant I would have to up my game plan.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This chapter is kinda the reason why I decided on an 'M' rating rather than 'T'.  
><strong>

**Jasper**

My fingers traced the rough raised ridges of my skin – no different from the dark bark I leaned my back on – with a mindless intent. Each crescent shape was a memory, and every time my finger completed the inventory of another shape, its story flashed in my mind's eye.

It was a practice to torment myself, to remind me of who I was. In my early days with the Cullens, I felt these ridges almost constantly, shuddering with inner pain as I pushed myself to abstain from human blood.

Oh, so close….

Longing rolled of my tongue, thinking about that single day. Roses… tulips… crushed junipers… fresh strawberries…. Venom swirled in my mouth as I began pitting one scent from the other, trying to pin point the exact smell that tiny girl presented to me.

She was a treasure trove of gold for a broke and coal-smudged miner. She was a candy store let loose on a classroom of sugar-obsessed children. She was the sweet perfume of nature's hidden meadow – scores of discoveries yet to be touched and documented.

I wanted to be the researcher.

A furry, warm body scurried across my stomach, the tips of its paws teasing the thin fabric of my light blue shirt.

I swallowed back the excess of venom, fighting back smell with depression. My fingers pressed harder as I traced the memories, relived them. Glory, victory, pride. Fear… duty… emptiness.

My family was waiting for me to return today. I had pushed it all away for a month; I could resist harming a little girl for five months! So little time gaped between me and graduation, and then I wouldn't feel it again. It was like a day to a human – hardly anytime at all.

But enough.

I sprung to my feet in one, graceful blur, dislodging the pine needles and dirt that clung to me relentlessly over a three day period.

Hooves padded along the needle-swamped floor not a mile from where I crouched. Attached to those prancing hooves would be muscular legs – four of them, and swathed in thick, warm fur the color of pinewood. From there, the main cavity where vital organs nestled behind the protection of curved bones – a measly defensive in my view. And just up an eye level would be the segment of vulnerability connecting sensitive ears, watchful eyes, and a grazing jaw to the rest of the body – the segment of a pulsing vein.

I was off in a sprint before the forest creatures could blink. They squawked in surprise and dismay as I breezed through them, leaving no more trace than the wind.

A deer munched on the lush grass growing by a still pond – where animal life was small and harmless to its beating heart.

The ecosystem had no time to react, much less my prey that missed my ghostly breeze in its blind spot. I pounced for it throat, my sure hands locking an inescapable hold and lifting the neck towards my mouth and snapping the fragile bones in the process. My teeth cut through its warm coat and to the hot blood like biting butter. Immediately, balmy liquid rushed over my tongue and down my throat. It seared with satisfaction as I swallowed and drank. Swallowed and drank. Irritation followed when the body sucked dry, and I was still hungry. The pool of nourishment sitting in my stomach would quickly seep away into the rock of my bones, leaving my crazed still for real meat.

I dropped the still corpse with a defeated sigh. But then, a dark image floated to the forefront of my battlefield, and my inner demon chuckled with sick pleasure.

A tiny frame caught up in my arms. Midnight black hair pushed aside to reveal the sweet smelling neck and a red, beaconing pulse that drew my lips nearer, parted for the bite.

_"What are you doing?"_ I imaged she had a shrill, child's voice to match her youthful stature.

_"Shh…shh…"_ I'd whisper just before sliding my mouth over the pulse, savoring the lively bump against pale, paper thin skin as her heart rate quickened. My teeth would penetrate the sinewy membrane and, like a valve would turn, blood would rush from her veins to my awaiting mouth. She would have no escape. The venom would paralyze her in my arms, my fingers would curl over her lips to silence any sound. The taste, I knew, would be succulent and worth every drop. I would feel a twinge of regret that she had no real mass to her, no extra room to increase the quantity as I licked the wound for any missed drops.

"Jasper!" Edward gasped.

I whirled around on the balls of my feet, still caught up in the mood of the hunt. It was radiating off him in rolls as well as he watched me fantasize.

Edward grasped the trunk of the closest tree to brace himself. The bark split under the pressure of his tightening hand. I assessed his position, his weak spots. A plan knit together flawlessly in the brain.

"Jasper, snap out of it!" Edward snarled, catching control of himself. "It's me! I came to get you. Esme–"

I lunged for his jugular.

Edward used the tree to swing his lean, smooth body over to the other shore end of the pond. He was calm and made no offensive moves. Somehow, he managed to sprint out of range just before I snagged hold of his neck.

_Deadly_, my mind supplied. _Deadly and aware; fast and practiced._

As I moved to hit him again, he hurled his lean form into my catapult, throwing us both into a thick tree. The wood snapped and cracked on impact. We wrestled for the dominating hold, me reaching for the kill, Edward holding me back.

"Jasper… it's Edward Cullen. I'm not an enemy. Snap out of it!" He kept up a constant stream of words… useless words.

"Esme's missed you!" Edward shook my shoulders for emphasis. "She's been looking forward to this since the day you left. Are you going to disappoint her now?"

The name rang a soft toned bell, smoothing over the will to fight, to kill. I surfaced from the deep, dark caverns of instinct and gasped.

What was I doing?

"You were hunting, Jasper, and I startled you. Nothing too serious. At least no one was around." With a cautious tone to his liquid amber eyes, Edward got off of my and held me to my feet.

"Edward, I'm–"

"Water under the bridge, brother." He grinned. "Welcome home."

Self-loathing piled high. How could I be so caught up as to attack my own _brother_? I shook my head, desperate to ride my conscious of its new sin. What a sick monster I was. There was no way I was ready to take this challenge head on.

"Don't go. It's not the same without you there," Edward spoke as we began sprinting through the forest trees. "We'll move if we have to."

But his words held no balm to the wound. It was just another mark on the slate of my sour life. And there were no words in any language on Earth that would erase that truth away. The inevitability of it was crushing.

The sight of our Forks home brought a tiny particle of warmth to my guilt-ridden heart. Seeing Esme's radiating smile beam brighter than the sun almost pulled a smile out of me. She jumped from her sitting position on the stairs and launched herself to wrap me a motherly hug.

"Oh Jasper, dear, I'm so glad you're home!" Esme smoothed the disjointed locks of my honey blonde hair with a tender, loving touch. Joy swarmed me until I thought I would suffocate with it.

Bella's welcoming smile from the porch was amusing as she took in the sweet scene. Edward immediately sped to her side, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair.

"Finally!" Emmet's booming voice called as he bounded outside to tackle me. The only thing that stopped him was Esme's unmoving hug. She had yet to let me go.

Rosalie stepped onto the porch, sending me a sisterly smile and a wave.

Carlisle followed her out. When his golden eyes met mine, a white fire burned beneath the rock layer of his face. He dashed to my side and squeezed my shoulder. "It's good to see you home, son."

Home. I would be strong enough to stay home.

* * *

><p>When the lunch hour rolled around, the tension in my family increased. We walked as a group to our typical table, and I could feel the curious eyes that pulled to me as the human crowd noticed five Cullens rather than four.<p>

"She comes in Jessica Stanley and Angela Weber most days," Bella informed me as we slid into our respective seats.

Edward was quiet, listening. There was no need for him to announce, though, which entrance she was coming through. Any immortal ear could pick up the high, soprano voice that chimed a youthful, happy tune.

"Act human," Rosalie reminded us, nuzzling her cheek in Emmet's side.

My ankles crossed, stretched out, and separated, playing out my nerves for the show. My throat could sense her pulse near, hear her heels slap against the linoleum floor.

Edward kicked my chair. "Cool it," he snapped under his breath. "Don't think so hard."

Alice. Mary-Alice Brandon was her name. A short, elfin girl with shoulder-length, midnight black hair that sauntered through the cafeteria doors like she was on top of the world.

Her smile….

Pearly white gleamed in the poor fluorescent lighting, framed by a perky set of glossy lips that aimed to please. The light reached her dark eyes, pooling them with a pleasant sparkle. Overall, she looked rather… cute – looking like a child playing dress up in her mother's hand-me-downs from college days.

"She seems rather nice, doesn't she?" Bella said – not to tease, just stating an obvious fact.

I shrugged. "Yes."

Alice fluttered by Jessica's side, giddy as she sat in her chair and began picking at her meal. "Oh, you should _totally_ say yes, Jess. You two are absolutely perfect!" I heard her squeal.

Her companion – a girl who I remembered to have an unwavering attraction to me the year before – beamed Christmas lights. "You really think so? Cause I don't want take the chance of ruining our friendship, you know? What if it turns out to be a mistake?"

The entire conversation was void to me – soared straight over my head. Nothing worth eavesdropping on. She seemed like a perfectly normal human girl.

A perfectly normal human girl with succulently abnormal appealing blood, that is.

The scent, thankfully, was diluted in this crowded cafeteria. Alice sat on the other side of the room, putting so many other bodies between us that her scent seemed but a whiff. Maybe I was wrong to doubt myself after all.

"She thought it was weird you would stay out so long to visit grandparents," Edward supplied. He and Bella had taken the time to fill in the blanks of the previous month, including their last-minute back story they hadn't realized would be so necessary.

I chuckled. "What can I say? I'm a family man."

Coming back to Forks was proving to be the better choice than roaming around for a decade on my own. During my month of absence, I felt a whole in the cavity of my chest that triggered the return of my depression. Sadness lingered on the edges, but this first day was like a cool drink after braving the blazing deserts.

"Remember to be careful what you say around her." Edward narrowed his eye to make his point.

Alice was determined to get me to talk. From what Edward and Bella deduced, I was next on her 'Cullen' list. But, surprisingly, I wasn't worried. Being an empath had its perks, and I had no doubt I could dislodge this mission of hers. At least while I was in the vicinity.

Edward stiffened. "Look away."

I did. "Why?"

"Jessica noticed you staring." His voice betrayed the irritation he was feeling. No more mistakes. No more messing up. Don't look too interested. I stared at the white table top in front of me, tracing invisible patterns with my eyes as I listened intently across the room.

And indeed, I could sort out Miss. Stanley's quivering heart as she revealed her little tidbit to Alice. "Jasper Hale was staring at you, Alice." Strangely, though her tone was open and friendly, envy emanated from her.

"Really? Why? I only met him once."

"You _met_ him?" The jealousy churned faster.

Alice hesitated. "Well… kinda – not really. He gave me seating assignment in Biology." She sounded disappointed.

"Strange," Edward muttered.

I looked up. "What?"

He shook his head, seeming to shake off a thought rather than my question. "The girl. She's strange. Perky. Can't you feel it?"

The cafeteria rocked and swayed with a diversity of emotions – ranging from sugar-induced hyper giddiness to sluggish depression. Over the years of attending multiple high schools, I had experienced every feeling known to man. These four years were strange that way. Some of these kids went through inner turmoil that rivaled those sickening the adults. But that was high school, I guess.

Alice had a strong wave of joy gushing from her every pour. Even diluted as it was in this sea of emotion, her happiness was catching.

"Yes." I felt another smile. "She's quite happy."

"She's rather… energetic," Edward agreed, though I could sense a bit of unease in his tone.

Bella frowned at him. "It's nice to talk to someone who doesn't sulk routinely for at least twelve hours a day." But she stroked his hands to soften her comment.

Edward entwined their hands, and, for a moment, their moods emanated love and admiration, though one needn't be an empath to read the white glow in their eyes.

Rosalie and Emmet were wrapped up in a similar passion. Emmet's burly arms were tight around his mate as she rubbed her lips on his bicep. The ardor suffocating the air around them was enough to make me want to ditch that last stretch of school.

A familiar twitch in my dead heart hooked me to where I sat. The same twitch I felt when Peter found Charlotte and once again felt when I moved in with the Cullens sixty years ago.

A longing to be worthy of love.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: To me, this feels a little weird. Fan fiction isn't my normal writing style, so I'm having a hard time adjusting to Alice and Jasper's characters fully instead of having them act half like themselves and half like my own characters. **

**Also, reviews make me want to write this; it makes me feel people care to read what I write. I'm not gonna hold my story ransom for them, just wanted to say how much I would appreciate some feedback. It would mean the world to me.**

"Is he still looking?" I asked under my breath, pushing off the temptation to peek over my shoulder.

Jessica frowned as she became my lookout. "No, though he doesn't look particularly happy where he's sitting anyway."

"Why?"

Jessica grimaced. "His adopted siblings are PDA-ing in the middle of lunch."

The sound of the class bell corrected her end statement.

She sighed, gathering her orange, scuffed-up lunch tray and shouldering her cute, pink book bag. "Are you going with us to the beach this Saturday?"

I shook my head as I followed her lead to the trash cans. "Nope; my family's taking a day trip down to Seattle for the first shopping trip in Washington!" My smile grew impossibly larger, taking up half the proportion of my petite head.

"Sweet! So you'll have some new clothes to show off next Monday?" Jessica threw me a sweet smile. _And to let me borrow cause you're my best friend_, I could see her adding. She opened her mouth to do just that when I stopped her.

"Gosh! Gotta get to class; Mr. Banner isn't very lenient with the tardies. See ya after school!" I waved her a quick goodbye and skipped my way through the lunch crowd.

Edward was crouched in his normal hunch-back fashion. His fingers were drawing invisible patterns into the black counter top, his murky gold eyes watching their dim reflection in the gleam of the surface. He made no significant move when I sat on the stool beside him, even when the stool's stilts screeched like nails on a chalk board.

"Hey there, Edward." I threw him the leftover glee that was still strapped to my face.

"Alice." A terse, polite nod.

I rolled my eyes, giving him his space. "So we're back to this?"

He shrugged. "I don't have much to say to you."

"I saw your brother is back," I offered.

Edward grimaced. "Why should you care if my brother is back or not?"

The question – his voice biting – made me pause.

Why indeed? Now that he posed the question, why did I care so much that Jasper had up and left a month. I had, after all, only seen him once, and our 'interaction' was awkward at best. But then… that way he looked at me before he left….

"I gave you something to talk about," I retorted.

Mr. Banner called the class to attention, throwing Edward and me 'silence' looks. Standing by his side was the wavy blonde, twice-my-height Cullen – blank as a canvas.

"Jasper has returned and agreed to continue being my T.A. till the end of the year. Please pass in your homework to the end of your table, and he will come by to pick it up." A touch of relief flattened Mr. Banner's brow as Jasper moved with a graceful step to collect the worksheets.

With as much elegance and poise as I could muster from the curve of my dainty fingernail-grip to the blink of my shadowed eye, I retrieved a green notebook and a mechanical pencil from my bag. But from the mean smirk in Edward's mouth, I failed miserably.

The room quickly filled with the soft sounds of shuffling binder paper and the scuffing of pencil lead. Jasper ghosted down the middle aisle, contributing no noise to the scholastic symphony. I kept my head bent over the notes I was copying from the white board, letting the tresses of black curtain me from view.

When Jasper lowered his long, lean arm to retrieve the papers place mere inches from the skin of my arm, I peeked between the threads of night – completed by half-lowering my eye lid in a surreptitious aim to scrutinize my opponent.

He caught my eyes.

Within the reserve of his golden gaze, there sparked a feeling. I wasn't sure what it was, but the gold in his eyes seem to lighten.

Then he was off.

"Miss. Brandon? The answer?" Mr. Banner turned from the white board, waiting expectantly for my response.

"Um…." My hand brushed through my hair as I racked my brain for an inkling of what he could have asked.

"Mitosis," Edward coughed every-so-slightly under his breath.

Without a thought, I jumped on it. "Mitosis."

Mr. Banner searched my face, not trusting I heard his question. But he didn't dwell on it long, his voice soon droning into a single-note lecture.

_What determines the merits of a work of art? Is it the diversity of color and shade incorporated into a spell-binding scene of nature? Does it need to be labeled as abstract or nepotistic or romantic? Does one need years of grueling practice before they can be labeled as masters? What of the child who brings in their hand prints – smudged and decorated with dots and butterflies and race cars – to show off to their awaiting family. Is that lesser a masterpiece than the work of those who starve and live in shabby shacks simply to do the work they love at best? Or can it be the canvas that speaks louder than words – blank and yet holds volume of emotion? To end, then, is love?_

I was squatting, feet planted on the gym floor beneath me and watching the white volleyball net with acute interest, when the thought hit me.

Literally.

"Alice! Alice! Are you alright?" Multiple voices shot my ears as the words in my mind faded away. Some feet away from me rolled a white and red volleyball, triggering a dull pain to make itself known on my forehead.

Mike knelt by me as did several other students. Their crowding presence was suddenly overwhelming, and I wanted nothing more than for them to go away.

"Alice, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hit it so hard!" A girl with blue-black hair pulled into a tight ponytail pushed her way beside Mike, her eyes seeking with earnest for signs that I was okay.

"Guys, give her some space," Mike ordered, spreading his arms out like a shield as I tried to stand. "That volleyball must've hit you hard, Alice. You wanna go get an ice pack at the office?" Mike offered his hand to help me steadily to my feet.

I shook my head. "I'm fine. Let me just sit down."

Mike and the girl with the killer serve walked me to the benches where Coach Clap sat. He told me to sit out for the rest of the game. Mike wanted to sit with me – companionship – but was ordered back to the basketball game the guys were finishing.

The bleachers were hardly more comfortable than the hit I'd received, but it gave me some time to process what I just saw. The words sounding in my head were almost mouthed as if someone were speaking them, but there was no face to the monologue. Probably nothing more than a result of the volleyball.

Even as I changed into my school clothes in the locker room, though, I had a feeling I would understand the words soon enough.

I didn't dwell on it anymore and instead focused my efforts on the rain sprinkling its way from the clouds to my hair. The past month, I had been forced to revamp my entire morning routine to accommodate the frequent – rarely never there – rain showers. In Arizona, my hair had been built to last in the sunny, humid climate. In Forks, though, my locks were more inclined to coil in unpredictable waves and curls that made my hair look like it was never brushed.

Average car was parked in the middle section of the parking lot, making it impossible for me to escape home without dredging the back of my jeans in puddles and slick pavement.

When I looked up to unlock my care, though, a handsome figure was standing beside it with a friendly smile touching his lips.

Jasper Cullen.

"Good afternoon, miss." His voice warmed my ears with its deep, tenor quality. "Seeing as my sister has taken so fondly with you, I felt impressed to introduce myself."

I forced a tooth not to bite my lip. "I'm Alice Brandon," I said with a growing smile.

His grin lifted. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss. Alice."

"Please, just Alice," I insisted.

Jasper stayed standing by my car as I unlocked it and set my school supplies in the backseat. When it became apparent I was about to leave, I hesitated. "Was there something you wanted?"

A light dawned on him. "Oh, yes, um, well, Alice… as I said, it's a pleasure to meet you, and I would like to stay and chat, but my siblings are waiting for me. Bye." As he walked across the parking lot to where Edward's Volvo was parked – Bella waving at me – I noticed how fast Jasper walked, almost like he couldn't get away fast enough.

Now what on earth did I do to offend him? 


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you a million times over to the one person - deltagirl74 – who has reviewed my story twice! I'd dedicate the chapter to her, but I don't think that'd be very nice, considering what happens anyways…. **

**I feel very hearted people even read this (well, at least I hope people are…..)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stephanie Meyer's characters (but I think that was a little too obvious by now)**

"Mo_ther_!" I squealed as I jingled the car keys towards the stairs. "We were _supposed_ to be in the car five _minutes _ago! Come _on_!"

"I will not take a step down those stairs until you find a more respectful tone for your mother!" Her scowling, edgy voice prickled my excited exterior.

I sucked in a quick breath. "_Please_ come down?"

The enthusiasm built in my little limbs to the point I was shaking like a twig. On my shoulder, I swung on a purple sequence bag. I wore a purple rouched drape top with crystal-shaped, multiple-colored beads. Slim jeans skimmed my legs, and dark purple ribbon pumps graced my dainty feet.

Mom finally showed at the top of the staircase, wearing her ink black hair slick in a bobbing ponytail, a red-rust blouse, flat jeans, and tennis shoes. Her clearance-rack, black shoulder bag swayed as she ambled down stairs.

"Richard, you might as well start the car. Mary-Alice won't breathe until you do," Mother called out to the other room.

Dad chuckled, but the shuffling noises indicated he was moving. That was a start.

Not only was I going to get to scour the Seattle Mall, but I was going to have free rain of a certain shiny card fluttering at my finger tips.

I was surprised I didn't rocket into the sky the way I was jittery and skipping with excitement when we were at last scooting out of the drive way. Mother had to pat my knee and laugh in order to bring me mostly back to reality.

"I swear I don't know where you learned to like shopping so much," she commented from the front seat.

Dad grinned in the driver's seat – a position I was forbidden to take when shopping was involved. "I know – that sister of yours, Scarlet. That woman could put the mall out of stock in one visit."

"No, she could not." Mother slapped his thigh. "She'd buy them out of business."

I clutched my purse to my chest, smiling in satisfaction and imagining the bliss of the next few hours. Thumbing through various clothing racks… running my hands over fabrics to test their softness and flexibility… hearing that cash register ding and the plastic bag crinkle and scuffle as it's handed to me across a sleek counter top….

"Don't think you can go on and do that tonight, honey," Mother said to me, shaking me from my thoughts.

"What?" I blinked – a tad dazed.

My parents chuckled. "Nothing."

The parking lot to the mall was packed and electrifying with a pleasant buzz. Dad let Mother and me out in front of a sporting goods store to go search for a parking spot.

The mall was tall and a stretch of buildings on either side of me. People strolled by on the solid floor, dressed in an array of styles and colors that added flavor to the mix around me. The air smelt like curious packaging and gasoline from the puttering cars trailing behind me. It was a breath of fresh air.

"Are we gonna shop, or are we gonna stand and smell the iron weeds?" Mother teased, already several yards ahead and about to step through the glass doors.

"Wait, up!"

The first store we browsed through was Mother's taste: cheap and reasonable. I lulled through the racks and sales displays with a lazy pull of my lips, feeling my natural instincts kick in. _Too flabby, too rough, too drab, too ripped…._

Mother watched the clothes pass her sharp vision and her fingers strolled the racks. Occasionally, she would grasp an item, pull it out for closer inspection, and either sling over her arm or replace it on the silver stands.

"How do you even like this place?" I stood across from her and the gleaming, silver rod. "Everything here is out of season and is made to fit a square box."

Mother spared me a bored glance. "You shop what you like, and I'll shop what I like."

I rolled my eyes and shrugged. "I'm just saying."

"Calm yourself, child; it doesn't take me near as long to shop as you do."

Frowning, I sulked away to row of stripped shirts.

True to her word, though, Mother had tried on her measly stack of five items – three shirts and two jeans – and had them paid for all within the half hour. But she said nothing about her timing or how much of a brat I sounded complaining to her. She followed me quietly through the mall as I lost myself in a wave of a shopping frenzy.

The dollars racked up as I bought outfit after outfit. As the night wore on, so did the frown on my Mother's face. I tried to engage her in my enthusiasm, pointing out shirts or shoes I thought would look amazing on her. It made the frown lighten a tad – until I swiped the debt card again.

"Mary-Alice," she started as I faced a trendy shoe store, "don't you think we've bought enough stuff for one night."

"No!" My voice was shrill, drunk with energy. "I haven't done this much shopping in a month and two weeks." It was like all those days missing out on buying and having were pent up in my brain, and, tonight, they exploded with a desperate fervor to be heard.

"Mary-Alice…" Mother's tone became a warning.

"I have to go in here, Mom; it's the coolest store out there." And with that, I skipped into the threshold.

Inside was a mass of shoes boxes piled into aisles. My legs pulled me through each lane, checking for my petite size and finding it near the front. I tapped the black and white pictures of the shoes on their respective boxes.

Mother was beside me as I pulled out a tan box and lifted its lid. Darling black stilettos greeted me, snuggled into their tissue paper like babies in blankets. My answering smile stretched off my face.

I strapped them onto my feet, reveling in the soft padding and wrap around strapping. "Look at these! They're perfect!"

But when I had them replaced in their box and cradled in my arms, Mother interjected, "No, Mary-Alice; you have enough shoes."

I nearly dropped the box. "But _Mother_! Look at how cute they are, and, plus, it would be completely rude to walk into such a great store and _not_ buy something!" I threw her my most appalled frown and worried crease of my eyebrow.

Mother met me with an unwavering, frightfully even and stern expression. "I said no, Mary-Alice, and I'm not backing down." She flipped open her hand toward me, her fingers calling for a particular small, plastic rectangle burning in my pocket.

"No! You said we were going shopping, and I am!" I ignored the stares people were beginning to give us. "Why do you always have to get mad at me for doing what you ask me to do?"

"You have single-handedly blazed through more than half of your father's first check." Her fingers snapped expectantly. "We need that money for more than just clothes, dear. We have bills we need to pay."

I rolled my eyes. "Why don't you just get a job?"

"Mary-Alice!" A flush of dark red ran up Mother's face. "That's it; we're going home this instant, and you are _not_ buying those shoes."

My arms forged an ironclad cage over the shoebox. "Just let me have the shoes!"

She grabbed my arm before I could bounce away. "You get no reward for disobeying and insulting your mother, missy. Hand me that box." Yet, instead, she wrestled it from me.

A small cry , pleading, tore through my lips when Mother tore the shoebox from my grip. Immediately, my hands clenched into stiff fists at my side, and my cheeks puffed up with offense. "How could you be so cruel? I can't believe you won't even let me have that one pair! You've kept me prisoner for the past month and a half – moving me from my favorite city in the whole world, separating me from my best friends and a potential boyfriend, selling half my closet for your own greedy purposes. And you won't even let me buy a pair of _shoes_!"

"Mary-Alice –"

"I _hate_ you!" My lungs heaved in the aftermath of my fit. My skin raged with a burnt inferno as daggers stabbed a solid shield.

Mother was silent for a moment, waiting for my breathing to calm. "We're going home. _Now_."

For some unfathomable reason, I followed the black-hearted queen of the world out the shoe store – people frozen where they stood passing by – and out the nearest mall exit. She must have texted Dad because he was an unreadable mask of stillness that was waiting to show us the way to the car. I carried my numerous packages, almost clutching them to me as if the shopping Nazi would dare take them away from me. Even when we slammed our doors on the car, I had my bags as far away from my mother as was possible in such a small space.

It was a dark, tense, angry quiet that settled over us on the drive back home. I sat behind Daddy's seat and glared out the window, setting flames to the trees we passed. The sun was long gone, and it was a moonless night. It matched the mood boiling under my skin. I could almost murder someone.

How _dare_ she? Shopping was like the oxygen in my blood. It drove me. The feeling of… owning something, even as something as trivial as a piece of wearable fabric, just made my heart soar. But Mother didn't understand this. All she saw was the dollar sign and the number that followed. She shopped when it was necessary and never otherwise. I typically had to go to the mall with my friends or on my own if I wanted to savor the high.

As the drive drew closer to an end, I heard some tires screech just ahead of us. But it was gone a second later. Then it happened again.

Suddenly, the windshield flooded with white light.

"What the?"

Tires squealed. Dad jerked the wheel to the left, trying to avoid whatever sourced the light.

Metal crunched inward, and the car reared, throwing my body forward. My torso snapped to the right as something else smashed in the side of the vehicle. The last thing I felt was the shattering of glass cutting into my scalp….


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I would really appreciate any reviews readers could spare me. I want to get better at my writing SO badly. And it's the readers that help the writer refine themselves. Plus, I've only had _3_ reviews for my eight chappys. Makes it hard to want to finish this when I have giant projects I also need to do.**

**_Mkay_, enough with the guilt-trip. On with the chapter :-)**

The screaming of sirens burned my ears. Wide straps tightened across my body as I jostled. Voices… could I hear voices….

I fell back into the black mist where everything was numb. Was I asleep? A heaviness seemed to weigh me down, drag me down – similar to that moment of awareness where I was reluctant to wake from a deep sleep. I weighed a million tons, unable to move even the tips of my fingers.

Somewhere in the deep mists of sleep, an image manifested, swirling to clarity. At first came the scenery: green grass dotted with colorful flowers created a sea over a large, circular clearing. Trees curtained the area, surreptitiously spying on the scene that was beginning to unfold. Then, a man sat beside me, his honey hair shinning as brightly as his smile. He was cast in one of the tree's shadows, his golden eyes twinkling with hidden amusement – like he held a secret he could barely maintain from telling me.

I felt safe… there in that meadow.

His hand reached out to mine, encasing it gently. The skin was marble hard, smooth, and cold, but I could not feel myself shuddering away from his soothing touch.

"Everything will be alright, Alice…" he promised.

I waited for my response, so I could guess at what fear he was calming. But no words came. For an undeterminable amount of time, we sat and stared. And though no voices spoke, our eyes churned with depth and volume.

I could feel the tug of reality prying me away from that simple hand-clasp. The man stayed frozen – not a minuet change touched him – as I spiraled back into the black abyss, only to come up for air where pain was my only greeter.

"She's awake," I heard a gruff voice say. "She's whimpering; do you anything you can give her?"

"We're doing our best to take care of her," a deep, smooth voice replied.

My eyes refused to open, so heavy with sleep and unwilling to touch the light they were. But I managed to flutter them open just a tad.

A little to the right of the side of the bed stood my dad's cousin. Swan… wasn't that it? My brain hurt, the skull burning with a percussive pain. It was like a scream-o, hard metal, rock band was bashing their instruments as they played a concert for the rowdiest of crowds.

At the foot of my bed, I noted the doctor who was still trying to comfort Mr. Swan. When he looked at me, there was no trace of a smile to pacify the rock concert. "Good afternoon, Alice. I'm Dr. Cullen. Can you hear me?"

I nodded once. Shock struck the back of my neck, flipping the lids of my eyes wide open. A grated cry ripped in my throat.

Mr. Swan tensed by my side, looking guilty that he didn't know how to help.

Dr. Cullen's amber eyes betrayed no surprise at my pain, though his perfect lips tipped farther into a grievous frown.

I tried to speak, wincing when the sound came out raspy and ugly. "Where am I?"

"Forks Hospital." Dr. Cullen was even in his words, while Mr. Swan began to shake slightly. "You arrived here just yesterday evening. Do you remember?"

My eyes must have answered his question, as I was too afraid of more pain to shake my head no.

He sighed, expecting this, and looked up at Mr. Swan. I followed his eyes, a foggy film of my vision seeming to finally clear and the world was visible to me again.

Mr. Swan had been crying, I realized, noting the red, puffy rims of his eyes. "I'm okay," I said, though my shredded voice did nothing to reassure him. If anything, it seemed to upset him more. With confusion nesting in my thumping brain, I looked back at the golden-haired doctor.

"You don't remember the accident?" Mr. Swan said – the words low and deep to cover any cracks.

A faint memory flickered, one of screeching tires and the crumbling of metal as it smashed into an obstacle. I supposed it felt like the memory of some accident.

"The car hit two trees as it veered off the side of the road," Dr. Cullen supplied. "And then another car crashed into its side, the force smashing your head into the window. Luckily, the glass only cracked so much that, while it cut into your head, it wasn't so deep that it was fatal. We had to stitch you up though… requiring us to… shave your head."

My hand automatically reached for my head, but the IV held it prisoner. When I reached up with my other hand, though, a deep horror pooled in my stomach.

Smooth, hairless scalp – minus the stitches I ran over – was all I felt under my shaking fingers. There was no trace of my midnight tresses. Tears welled up in my eyes at the thought of being bald at seventeen.

"That's… not all, either." The hesitation in Dr. Cullen's voice pulled me out of my terror for a moment. "I won't bother you with all the details, but… your parents didn't make it Alice…."

It felt as if my ears weren't registering any noises. There was no possible way I was hearing him correctly. The nurses must have stuffed me with painkillers and other drugs. There was no possible way….

"They died in that accident."

My eyelids pinched closed against the torrent of tears stinging behind them. "No… that's not right…."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Brandon, but there was nothing we could do to save them."

Burning rivers rushed down my face and into the hospital gown I wore. What was going on? What was happening to me? Why could I hear no timber of a lie or teasing in Dr. Cullen's voice? Why was my heart tightening and twisting as if it believed the words? My head suddenly swung so viciously, a cry escaped my lips.

There was no sense of safety when I closed my eyes and felt the pull of the darkness. I fell away willingly.


	9. Chapter 9

I didn't want to stay in Forks.

I had never wanted to live in this cursed town in the first place. It was a part of a vision my Mother held in her mind for years that only found purchase in reality not two months earlier. I had fought it every step of the way. And I had no doubt one of my friends in Phoenix would take me in. Before I left, I had numerous offers from my group of friends to live at their place should I ever run away from Washington.

When I was finally discharged some days later, Mr. Swan drove me to the house. It was eerily quiet and haunting as I walked through the front door. The air was cold and shadows ghosted on the walls, following me up the stairs to my bedroom.

I pulled my suitcases out of my closet – Mother had yet to collect them – and began searching through my clothes. Mr. Swan had told me to take my time packing my things. Bring the necessities at first, and we would return a couple of times later to get everything else.

I didn't want to return.

The dusty, stiff air choked me as I held back emotions. In the hospital, it had been easier to suppress Dr. Cullen's revelation. Out here in the real world, though, it was harder to deny the truth crushing down on me.

My parents were truly dead.

I ignored the familial pictures placed so tactfully on my dresser drawers and nightstand. I paid no attention to the articles of clothing I stuffed into the suitcases. They might as well have been dust bunnies for all I cared. I just had to get out.

In my hurry to gather everything, my elbow knocked against a solid object on my nightstand. It fell back on the white wood, rolled slightly, and sailed over the edge – shattering into chunks and bits of glass.

"No!" The shout released the valve and water trickled down my cheeks as I kneeled by the pile of the smashed birthday present. On the floor, the pieces resembled nothing of the ladybug form it had represented. I gingerly touched the largest of the cragged sections, feeling the smooth, clear quality of the glass and remembering the moment I had opened up the gift – a special present from my mother she had bought as a souvenir from Asia during her college single years.

Mr. Shawn's solid footsteps thudded against the first stair step. "Alice… you alright up there? You need any help?"

I dropped the glass chunk and wiped my eyes. I pushed myself to my feet and snatched the handles to my two suitcases, grunting as I shouted, "No!"

When I reached the first floor, Mr. Swan took hold of my luggage and motioned me outside. Sobs continued to punch against the knot in my throat and desperate for release. But I held them back. I could be strong for a little while longer. I need to be only, though. I couldn't break down now.

There was no looking back as Mr. Swan heaved the small portion of my belongings into his Cruiser, and we drove away. I was planning on how I would call Janice once I was finally behind doors and Mr. Swan was out of the way. Her house had an apartment level beneath it she had offered me to stay in. And if not her, Taylor's older brother was leaving for college – was probably already gone by now – that she had said her parents would be fine if I wanted to rent it. It didn't matter _where_ I stayed, so long as it was far away from the nightmare Forks was turning out to be.

When we drove into the driveway of a modest-looking house, Mr. Swan turned to me, the awkward tension bare in his gruff voice, and said, "You can… stay here for as long as you need. No charge."

I offered him a slim smile. "Thanks, Mr. Swan…."

"Call… call me Charlie." He returned the favor, though his attempt was as fake as mine.

"Um… Charlie… thanks…." I sighed. "But I don't think I'll be here very long. I've only lived here for about a month. I don't really know anyone here. I'm going to go back to Phoenix as soon as I can…."

Charlie nodded. "Of course."

We stayed tenuously quiet as he took my bags into the house, up the stairs, and showed me the room I would be temporarily staying in. The house had only one bathroom, a fact that made me want to cringe. The bedroom was on the small side, at least to what I was used to, and I got a strange, eerie feeling just by walking inside it. Charlie couldn't seem to get out of it fast enough. On the surface, there was nothing truly wrong with the room. The walls were an innocent, happy light blue, the curtains over the single window a sunny, though a tad faded, yellow. The ceiling was peaked and a desk sat against the wall opposite the twin-sized bed.

But there was an underling feel to the air that stuffed this room. Given the rocking chair in the corner, the second-hand computer on the desk top, and the pinewood dresser, someone at some point had lived in this room. Perhaps they too had lived a nightmare here.

I stacked my suitcases against the wall and curled up on the grayish-blue bedspread. My cell phone was clutched in my fingers like a life preserver. I began searching through my contacts list for the names of the people who had offered me places to stay.

Janice picked up her cell on the first ring. "Alice! Is that really you!" she screamed into the receiver.

"Yes… hey, remember how you offered me the bottom floor of your house if I needed a place to stay?"

She was quiet on the other end, hesitating. "Yeah… but do you really think your parents will go for it?"

I bit my bottom lip, holding onto my weak composure.

Janice spoke again. "It doesn't really matter, though. You can't have it. My parents rented it out to this newly married couple, and I don't see them leaving anytime soon."

"Oh." And the conversation didn't last much longer than that.

I tried Taylor.

"Alice, I wasn't expecting to hear from you!"

"Yeah, well… how's it going?"

Taylor sighed. "Lance and I got back together."

"That's great!"

Not.

But when I managed to steer the conversation towards my dilemma, the other end of the line became studiously quiet. My heart flipped a couple times in the taut suspense.

"Alice… you don't know how sorry I am… but it's kinda impossible for you to take my brother's room. He dropped out – decided to come home and get a job as a mechanic at our uncle's shop. He'll still be doing college, but it'll be online."

I ended that conversation quickly as well.

I went through a checklist of all the girls – and even a couple guys – who had offered me or suggested places for me to stay. Some of my old friends offered to look for opened places, and, while my mind was dead set on leaving Forks, my heart was beginning to say something else. My "Yeah, why don't you do that" had turned into "No, it's okay; I'll figure something else out".

By five, I had run out of people to call. I dropped my phone onto the wooden floor beneath and snuggled up against the pillows to cry. Even the weather seemed to mourn, pouring out sweet-smelling tears from dark gray eyes that swallowed the joy of the sky.

Charlie knocked on the door post, clearing his throat when I didn't immediately answer. "Um… this was dropped off for you just now." In his large hands, he held with delicacy a white envelope. He handed it to me wordlessly and slunk back down stairs where the TV was on.

The envelope was blank and stiff. I sat on the edge of the bed to rip open its top and peek inside. I pulled out a piece of cardstock paper cut in half.

Written on only the front side was elegant script: _The Cullen family formally offers their sincere sorrow for the loss of your parents. _

**A/N: Yeah… sorry for the long wait. Life and school like to get in the way. Plus, I have a novel project I have to write for Creative Writing, so that's a bit of a priority. I'll still be writing this, though, as long as people keep reading it. I would love a review or two… only four reviews and I now have nine chapters up; it's kinda discouraging…. **


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm SO sorry! It's been pretty much an entire month since I've updated, and I feel horrid. I could list a bunch of excuses, but I think we all know how reality sometimes just crashes down on us (giant tests… sickness…writer's block….); I don't know to classify this as a filler or what, but it's got Jazz and Alice in it actually speaking; I decided it was time to get on it, considering I got over the first hurdle with Alice losing her parents; here we go! ;-)**

I managed to put off school for a total of three weeks.

Jessica had pitied me enough to gather school work for me to do at home, but the school district wasn't going to let me put off the inevitable any longer.

So when I exited my car and received the stares of a hundred eyes, it was no wonder my stomach was feeling sick rather than giddy. Attention usually didn't bother me – I ate it and begged for more – but all those eyes conveyed a single message that had me cringing inside and withering like a dehydrated flower. They wanted to know the details, wanted to know why I wore a black hat over my bald, stitched head, why I had stayed away for so long.

"Hey, Alice." Mike Newton waved as I passed his car, an awkward, unsure smile tilting his face.

Jessica held his hand as she leaned against the back of the car. "How are you feeling?"

I grimaced. The voice that was known to have no stop button was suddenly out of batteries. I couldn't find it in myself to speak.

Angela came up beside me and patted my shoulder, a major feat for the shy girl. "I'm sorry."

Strangely, even Angela's clear sincerity wretched my heart the wrong way. Everyone was too close, and the proximity was beginning to pound the life out of my ribs.

Class wasn't much better. My classmates were like Barbie dolls the way they all had the same planted look of sympathy and pity and tried to smile as if nothing had happened. I was suffocating beneath their waves of stares and meaningless words.

_I'm sorry your parents died in that accident._

_ Everything will be okay._

_ Do you want to hang out this Saturday?_

_ How are you doing?_

Bella was the only one who tried to keep my mind off the incident by bringing me up-to-date on the many English classes I had missed. But even listening to her silky, bell-like voice couldn't come close to soothing my sorrow – quickly deepening into a black depression. And she soon fell quiet and let me alone.

Jessica was uncertain what to say. I wasn't so caught up in my grief that I missed the slight sneers and the way I knew she wanted to tell me to 'get over it', but she always decided against it – probably to avoid a tarnished reputation for appearing so rude.

Her boyfriend Mike made it his personal duty to escort me around the school that day and to make sure I interacted. He was so sweet that it twisted another thorn into Jessica's irritation, though for the most part she hid it well as she tagged along. Mike was practically ignoring her, however.

I sat with my normal group at lunch, despite my intense longing to be alone. I wasn't quite ready to try and act normal – everything felt too numb in my brain – but the Forks student body had a million other things on their minds, the least of which was giving me space.

"All the Cullens are staring at you now," Jessica staged whispered. She snorted with annoyance when all I could manage was shrug.

"Of course they are." Mike rubbed the top of my right shoulder in an attempt to offer comfort. "They're all adopted, so I'm sure at least one of them knows what its like to loose a parent."

I sighed quietly, pushing food around with a plastic fork, as I lifted my eyes just a hair to peek over at them – a habit I hadn't let go of. But I could only catch glimpses of liquid eyes and pale skin as the sea of students tried to encircle me closer with their unruly presence.

"Do you want some water or an apple?" Mike asked, poised on his seat to fetch at command.

I shook my head. "No, thank you." There was a succession of wincing and grimaces at the sound of my cracked, dry, and hollow voice.

Mike walked me to Biology when the bell rang. He tried to keep up a light banter of conversation, but even in the shadows of the hovering clouds, I could tell his efforts were wearing thin. He was frowning by the time we walked into the classroom.

If I had been normal, I would have tried to talk to Edward about one thing or another, and he would have ignored me after a flat _hello_.

But of course, not even the stoic protégé himself could keep his mouth shut from greeting me this particular day.

"Good afternoon, Alice." His voice still harbored a touch of loftiness, but I could hear the way he was grounding down to speak with me.

"Hey."

"You don't sound too good; are you sick?" Edward genuinely sounded worried.

I looked up at him, puzzlement clearly displayed for him to read. "You don't know?" It was absurd to wonder. Carlisle – the doctor who had treated me – was his adopted father. He and his four siblings were ones I figured had known about the accident a measly hour after the fact. Not to mention the card.

Edward nodded, lips drawn tight. "I know. It's hard not to when you live in a small town like this."

I leaned forward onto the tabletop and laid my head in my arms. "I noticed."

"But are you sick?" He pressed gently.

"What's it to you?"

Edward blinked, staring at the white board Mr. Banner was writing on as students filed in and a warning bell rag. "Bella told me some things at lunch."

"I'm sure she did…." I exhaled a wavy breath, trying to hold back the burning behind my eyes.

Either he didn't care, or Edward was too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice my struggle with emotion. "She knows how you feel, Alice. She… lost her parents a few years ago."

I rubbed a hand over my face. "She… did? How?"

Edward half-frowned. "I'll let her tell you that."

Rolling my eyes, I turned my head to the front of the class. And Edward fell into his customary silence, for which I became grateful.

Jasper was standing by Mr. Banner, listening as he received instructions. He nodded slowly, a look of nervousness bathing his prefect face. His lips moved with a subtle grace as he gave his affirmative and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Beside me, Edward stiffened.

Jasper caught my gaze, a trickle of empathy touching his dark, golden eyes. He lifted one hand out of his pocket to motion with a long finger to come to him.

"Alice, I'm going to have Jasper take you to the back of the class to catch you up on some of the curriculum you missed," Mr. Banner explained as I got to my feet and gathered my things.

Jasper led me to a circular table in the back of the room. It was far enough away that Mr. Banner's lecture was muffled in my ears but close enough that he could keep an eye on us. We settled in the two available chairs, Jasper across from me, and retrieved our respective tools.

He placed a Biology textbook in front of him, while I gripped my pencil and smoothed out my notebook paper. I wasn't exactly in the mood for a crash course of all that I'd missed, but the sooner I got it over with, the sooner I could push it all away.

"Relax." Jasper's honey voice drifted over me like air freshener. "We're not gonna start immediately."

"We're not?"

He shook his head, the waves of his blonde hair quivering against his alabaster skin. "I don't think I could make you learn all this if the world depended on it. You're too stressed."

"Is it that obvious?" I slumped again.

Jasper offered half a smile. "It's understandable."

There was a moment of silence, and my fingers moved self consciously to the brim of the hat I wore. In the back of my mind, I wondered how long it would take to go and buy a couple of wigs, if only to feel semi normal again.

Jasper seemed frozen the way he stared at the biology textbook, mulling at whatever thoughts were pulling at his attention. I panicked suddenly: Did I look that funny? Was I somehow unbearable to look at?

Cool, honey eyes glanced up at me, sculpted brows furrowing as the gaze became penetrating. "What is it?"

"What is what?"

We stared for a moment. I could feel the confusion spilling over my face, the emotions bubbling within me ready to burst.

Was it possible to sue the school for psychological trauma received during campus hours? Because, in the instant, I knew without a doubt I was far from ready to be attending school.

And then, like the breath of anesthetics, I felt numb.

A wall shot up between me and the clawing tears that had nearly reached their way to the water line of my eyes. They were there – I could feel the pressure like a dam. But I no longer felt the need to cry. The numbness was gauze pulled tight over the sprain, and I could breathe through the knot in my throat as if it didn't exist.

"You left off on the middle chapter in the Ecology section?" Though his voice said plainly it was a question, Jasper already had the appropriate worksheets fanned out in front of me and was opening the textbook to the proper page.

For the hour left in class, Jasper coaxed me along my makeup work. The tenor tone shot much needed medicine in my taut muscles and throbbing head (an unfortunate consequence of water pressure unreleased). And I managed to finish five homework sheets and a study guide for the Ecology section. When the bell rang, a tiny pinch of satisfaction wormed its way past the numb wall, releasing a small trail of burden with it.

**As far as updating goes, it's hard to say; I have the worst luck in that I may say I'd update once week or so, but then something bad would happen and you wouldn't see me for another month; I may just write a ton of chapters (or finish the book) before updating more; depends on how it all goes**

**There's a motivation button down there (it starts with an 'R' :-D)**


	11. Chapter 11

Alice was not… Alice.

When Carlisle told us about the accident – he'd come home hours after he was supposed to – I was surprised to feel the cold lump in my chest thump with pain. Why I should have such a reaction, I wasn't sure, but there it was.

At school, I was flooded with the strength of the student body's immense and multiplied reaction to her plight. Sympathy. Pity. Worry. Confusion. Curiosity and fear. The shock of the wave made me stumbled on the pavement – an action that received strange looks from my siblings.

And then I felt Alice. So stressed and sad and frightened like a caged animal stolen away from her solace and locked behind steel bars simply to be gawked at by obnoxious twelve year olds and prodding toddlers. The temptation was so fresh and striking to take that pain away from her it took a solid kick from Edward _and_ Emmet to keep my business where it belonged.

"It's life," Edward had said. "Bad things are always going to happen. Let her learn how to deal with them now rather than later."

Strangely, Bella was as uncomfortable as I, mentioning her English period where she sat next to the girl and the terse conversation that had passed. Constantly, we found our eyes drifting over to look at the crowded table where buried within was Alice – bald under her black knit and red with embarrassment.

My throat burned in reminiscence of her scent. She had been gone so long, I worried if I could stand the smell and not hurt her.

That worry plastered to the forefront of my mind when Mr. Banner gave me the task of educating Alice in all she had missed so far. And though, my throat clenched, the fires roared, I nodded in affirmative and led the girl to the back of the room.

It was strange. Her sorrow hung like a curtain, hiding the radiance she had so recently embraced. And when the emotion began piling so high I could see the evidence of emerging tears, I threw out all the tranquility I could to stop it. Why? I couldn't be sure. All I knew was I didn't regret it.

Even stranger, I couldn't feel it – the raging need to suck her dry. It was there but almost muffled somehow. It was as if I had been so concerned for her that I could not think of myself and my own pain. Instead, it was replaced by her own.

Now, long after school hours were gone, I lay in my room and mulled over my response. Because I was not near, Alice would have begun to feel the effects wear off. She would be sad again. And while I debated sprinting to Chief Swan's house – everyone knew where she was staying – Edward's words rang in my mind: it's life; let her learn how to deal with it.

"Jasper?" Bella's inquisitive voice came at the other side of my door. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

Esme said from downstairs, "Come down with the family, honey."

I chuckled at her word choice: family. We were in many aspects just that. To the vampire world, we were like humans dressing up in rabbit costumes – ignoring what we really are. Where other vampires had loose, friendly bonds (minus the bonds between mates), this coven decided upon strength and stability in the confines of our stone hearts. Everything we did, it seemed, was to replicate human lives in every way possible.

When I first came upon the Cullens, they had been in the middle of a move between a remote city in Quebec and Sherman, Vermont. Coming from a hostile background, their sincerity refused to wrap around my head. It hadn't made sense. But Carlisle had been willing to take the time to explain his philosophy. And, as I'm sure most vampires have done, I thought it was the most idiotic and unnecessary thing in the world. Now, perhaps, I would amend that thought and say my pride was swelling. All those years of emotional torment and to find the answer was so _simple._

Needless to say, I had not stuck around. And a decade later, when it seemed the world was about to crush me between its forefingers, I had made a choice. And that choice changed the course of my existence.

Down in the living room, Esme and Carlisle were snuggled up in the love seat. My 'mother' beamed a beautiful smile when she saw no hint of depression lingering in my expression. Emmet grinned with amusement when I sat near Bella and Edward on the carpet rather than on the other end of his and Rosalie's tangled legs sprawled out on the couch.

The living room was thick with an array of happy emotions. My family was basking in some quality time, arms tight around their respective mates.

I was happy for them – any way to ease the ache of eternity was welcomed. But it was times like now where a pang hit me. I had none of that – no one could ever love such a monster as I. And though my 'sisters' and 'mother' have tried their hardest to persuade me otherwise, I know it's true. With the things I've done, it would be a curse to love me.

Edward shifted around Bella to more fully see me, saying, "I saw what happened during Biology. Care to explain?"

_You're bringing that up _now_?_

"Yes, it's a situation that could possibly hurt us all."

Rosalie jerked upright, pushing Emmet's arms away. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," I assured her.

Edward rolled his eyes. "I would come outright and say it, but I don't understand it either."

"Understand what?" Rosalie nearly growled.

Emmet pulled her back against his chest. He murmured soft words, asking for patience. If it had been anyone but Emmet, my sister would have hurled him across the room.

"He helped the Brandon girl today," Edward confessed.

Bella smiled. "Good. I was worried about her."

Edward gaped. "Bella? This isn't a good thing. He's attracted to her blood!"

"Like we aren't to every mortal we come across." His mate sighed.

Our 'mother' and 'father' stayed silent through the prologue, watching me with wary golden eyes. Confusion perfumed them, but they waited for me to fully explain.

Edward shook his head. "No, love, it's more than that. He had to leave us that entire month because of it."

"I'm not going to leave again."

"I don't want to leave at all!" Rosalie exclaimed. "Do you not hear what Edward is telling you, Jasper? If you become anymore associated with that girl, we will _all_ have to pay when you slip up."

"Rose, baby, we don't know that," Emmet attempted to say, his eyes throwing me sympathy.

But Rosalie wasn't having that. "You're right. We _don't_ know. That makes it all the more likely he _will_ kill the girl."

"Let's be reasonable." The sound of Carlisle's even, calm voice paused my sister's tantrum and silently demanded the attention of our ears. "We all take a risk in living the way we do – going to school, living within proximity, interacting – but we do it together. Jasper won't hurt the Brandon girl because he has us to help him through it."

Swept aside, negativity replaced the tranquility, and I found myself floating in its wreckage. Rosalie shot daggers at me, Emmet the only thing holding her back from tackling me. There was a steeled resolve hammered into the rocks of her eyes. She would fight to have her way.

Bella leaned away from Edward to put a smooth hand on my shoulder. "Carlisle is right; we're a family. We'll help you."

Edward's frown twisted up into a sneer. "Help with what? We shouldn't intervene. The girl is hardly the first to loose her parents at a young age, even at this high school. Jasper's been confronted with depressed teenagers mulling after an abusive morning, enduring rude and obtrusive others, and lagging behind during court disputes – he's never had the urge to fix their emotions then. Why now?"

At this, Esme sat up straighter. "This girl is different?"

I suppressed a sigh. "No, Esme. She's not… special."

"Then why'd you bother?" Rosalie snapped.

I shrugged. "Her pain was crippling. I couldn't help it."

"In _any_ case," Bella began – her voice engulfing Edward's as he tried to comment, "It was just one instance. Are we really getting so worked up over that?"

"Better to be prepared than be sorry," Rosalie muttered into Emmet's embrace.

While the others attempted to settle their alarm and anger to a simmer, Rosalie's words replayed in my mind, and I wondered: _why_? Edward was right; I had always ignored the others inflicted with depression. Was Esme so insightful? _Was_ Alice… special? My mother had asked this with such hope and wonder…; I knew she wished it with all her immortal heart.

But she had to be wrong.

Alice was human through and through. Where was place for me in her life that spanned a sixty-forth of a millimeter in comparison to my infinite kilometers? There was none. It was unnatural. And, putting aside all the Volturi's laws and basic commonsense, there was no 'special' for me; I had no mate the way Edward, Carlisle, and Emmet had theirs. I was alone, and that was the price I paid for the life I'd lived. My love was gone, taken by a murderous woman who had stopped at nothing to twist my will into matching hers.

I swallowed back the fiery chords in my throat and said, "If it worries you for me to have interaction with the human, then I will respect your concerns and stay away from the girl."

Bella frowned. "Don't worry about us, Jasper. You've done nothing wrong." Deep in the weaves of her voice, I heard the timbre of remembrance – of a time when she wished she could have felt numb to the world.

The room fell silent. It wasn't long, however, until Rosaline's festering emotions got the better of her, and she escaped from the room, Emmet trailing behind. Carlisle and Esme offered comforting smiles and left as well, claiming there was some work that needed to be done down at the hospital.

Bella and Edward stayed, frozen in the same position: wrapped in each other's arms.

Edward squeezed her hand. "Bella, love, we have to keep in mind what is best for the family as a whole. Jasper is not near as practiced as the rest of us. And I have seen the girl's mind: the more he interacts with her – even on lofty, friendly terms –the more she will crave to have him open up to her. It's her social nature. She'll want to figure him out."

"Jasper could make her feel the opposite."

"But will he?"

I fought back a growl. "I am right here and can speak for myself."

The couple frowned at me – a little child caught playing in the street. They emitted a mesh of negative and positive pity that crawled slowly down my stone back.

I leveled with my brother, conveying a flow of understanding that softened the crook of his brow. "Edward, I know what path you're leading to, but I assure you this isn't the same situation."

But Edward tried to fight the synthetic emotion. "She's human, Jasper. She has a whole life ahead of her that she deserves to experience. You may not mean to now, but who can say what the future will bring?"

Bella stiffened suddenly, realization punching her in the gut. She turned to her mate with a look of confusion and hurt. "How dare you." She pushed away from him and jumped to her feet. "Do you truly regret it?" If vampires could cry, tears would be welling up in her big, golden eyes. "Do you wish to change it?" Her voice cracked like a nutshell hurtling towards the barren earth.

Edward sighed. "Bella…."

"Don't _Bella_ me!" And without another word, she fled from the house. By the door, one of Esme's vases tried to follow her and wobbled over the edge. It shattered, the high pitched sound resonating through the air like a ghost in her wake.

Pain tumbled down Edward's expression – usually so collected and curtained in a frame of pride and arrogance. He pressed his face into his palms and groaned.

"Perhaps you should have explained everything to her," I said. Though I felt a smidge of contempt for playing the situation the way I had, I still felt guilty for muckraking the sensitive topic.

Edward's voice became low – dark in his address to me. "As well you should." He looked up, brows pulled sharply together over topaz eyes that glinted with anger. His mouth was twisted in a sneer, lips pulled back far enough to reveal the whites of his back teeth. "Whether or not I've said anything to her is far from your business, Jasper. I was trying to give you a fair warning. If you get too involved with the Brandon girl, you will live to regret it."

**A/N: Sorry for the slow pace. You must be thinking, "Hey, it's been eleven chapters and Alice and Jasper have only had one real conversation – kinda. I made some tweaks to the plot to fix the lack of romance. Really, it's my fav genre to write believe it or not, lol. The fun thing about writing this is I'm taking canon things and twisting them in some different light (i.e. the car crash in chpt. Something) **

**Motivation button… I would love anyone who reviewed this :-)**


	12. Chapter 12

_I run._

_I flee. _

_I slice through the dark night like fish propels through water. And behind, the shark loomed with gleaming, razor teeth. _

_A ski mask. Heavy breathing. My fingers clutch till they burn to the leather strap. There's a dark alley. I turn to it and trip over air. _

_Charcoal black cocks in the darkness. Though it is pitch black, I know it is pointed straight at me. Muffled voice: he wants my purse. My mind does not think to release and give it up. All it can produce is a memory of my mother as she hands me a birthday gift and squeals as I open it. _

_Another warning, the voice low and cold. His puffs a cloud of breath and motions with the gun to the purse. _

_Stupidly, I close my eyes to die. Sour water stings them. _

_The trigger is pulled; the gun shouts._

_I see black._

* * *

><p><em>Clap. Boom.<em>

"Alice!"

My heart jumped in my chest, jerking me up in bed.

Bed. I was in bed.

"Alice, are you alright?"

I blinked. Outside, the white light streaked against the canvas of the sky. Charlie stood bent slightly a few feet from my bed, watching with wide, wary eyes. The images of my dream refused to go away, and, as I sat in the shadows, all I could see was outline of a barrel staring me down.

"Alice, are you okay?" Charlie asked again, his voice gruff with sleep.

A sob punched my chest, and it took every ounce of my shaky will to beat it back down. "Y-yeah…. It was just a bad dream…."

"You sure…?" Charlie winced as if he could tell I was close to tears.

I took a deep breath and nodded. "You can go back to bed; I'm fine," I said.

Thankfully, I did not have to persuade him farther. He excused himself quickly and left my door ajar just a hair, adding to come get him if I needed anything.

I sunk back into the bed covers, dragging my hands down my face – except, in feeling the mine field of black stubble on my head and the slick sweat of fear, I choked out a sob. Reluctant to drag Charlie out from under his warm covers, I burrowed beneath the comforters.

Outside, the storm clawed at the windows; branches creaked and wobbled in protest; the wind wailed in despair. My heart pumped furiously in time to the rock-beat decimating my head. And all I could see behind closed eyes was the silhouette of sausage index finger forcing down a crescent-shape and bright flash of discharge…

The bullet killing me.

**A/N: Yeah, incredibly short, I know. But here's the catch – I'm nearly halfway done with the next chapter (longer than this one and with some more definite JxA plot emerging), so if I get enough reviews from people (more than three or so), I'll finish before the end of tonight and post it (don't worry, I'll look for grammatical/spelling errors and the like before doing so, else it wouldn't be much of a reward, would it?) So review!**

** Which reminds me: Thank you all who have reviewed my story so far; even though I only got three for the last chapter – which is amazingly cool since I typically get one or none – it pushed me to get pretty far, and I danced around practically squealing – no joke. **

** And, lastly, there were some of you that suggested a change in my summary/reel of the story (something I was thinking myself but wasn't exactly sure how to go about it) – do you like the newer one? Or could it use something else?**

**Motivation button ;-)**

**I**

**V  
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	13. Chapter 13

Rain pelted against the windshield of Average Car as I pulled into the school parking lot. For about the fifth or sixth time, I swallowed back gooey lumps in my throat and attempted to clear my sinuses. Despite my head feeling like a bowling ball, I refused to appear the bumbling idiot in public. No point. Life was hard – I was going to have to deal with it.

I smoothed out a crinkle in my blue knit hat (cute white flower on the side) and braced myself for six hours of purgatory.

Normal. I could be normal again. I just had to try, right?

I chanted _six hours_ continuously in my head as turned off the ignition, double checked my face to make sure last night's red trenches had faded away, and stepped out of my car. The air was chilly, wind from the storm lingering behind. I had decided against bringing a jacket or sweater – or even wearing long sleeves. The cold helped me focus, kept me awake.

The moment I looked up, there across the parking lot was the silver Volvo, the sunlight shining over it as if it were holy or something. I could see the perfect forms of each Cullen member as they shuffled with surprising grace and fluency out of the packed space – packed, I was sure, mostly due to the giant, hulking size of brother Emmet. Jasper filed out behind the beauty queen Rosalie, whose face was permanently sculpted into a scowl as she passed the gawking freshmen. He was frowning, thought not as if something was wrong – the way I was frowning now – but as if he would be performing a certain task he found boring or detestable.

Edward and Bella flowed together in sync, one magnet to another. Their hands connected like puzzle pieces, effortlessly and inevitably. Bella offered Jasper an encouraging smile as they passed, but he seemed so lost in whatever world he was visiting that he took no notice. Or maybe he ignored her purposely.

The clouds began to drizzle again, and I hurried to find shelter. Thankfully, because of my careful planning, I had arrived to school late enough that the bell drilled throughout campus the moment I stepped under the shelter of the office.

In English that day, we were given an essay to write on The Great Gatsby and relating the romanticism of Gatsby to the overall theme of the story. It was a good read compared to the other required books junior year, but I found myself completely distracted during the class period.

By the time I handed in my paper, Bella was already done and leaning over the homework of another subject. We had ten minutes left in class. Ten very long minutes. I held back a groan, curling my arms on the desk top and pillowing my head in the nest.

Someone pushed a piece of paper against my arm, the friction creating a shifty sound that teased my sensitive ears. The pushing increased when I didn't acknowledge it fast enough.

I bit my lip to control the annoyance slithering under my skin. Turn my neck just a degree, I saw a piece of white notebook paper prodding my arm. On the other end of it, however, was Bella – a half-grin, half-pity tint about her.

Slipping the paper below my forearm, I traversed the elegant script one would expect to see on printed, girly stationary (with a bit of a Victorian, theatrical flow to it).

_Hey there; I know saying sorry doesn't help much when you feel alone and lost, but I wanted you to know that you're not alone in the way you feel. Yes, I know I have Edward and my family. Right now in my life, I am not alone. But I used to be. What helped me was finding a silver lining in the clouds. Easier said than done – I understand. It's like trying to reach up and grab the stars from a glittery night sky. But once you find it, it'll be easier to climb that vertical mountain. _

_Bella _

_Thanks?_ I wanted to say. If anything, her well-meant verse brought tears to my eyes – and not because I was 'touched'. Silver lining? In _this_ place? She obviously didn't understand – how could she if that was all the advice she could offer. All I could read was _Get over it_ written out like a song lyric. And it would not leave my head.

But I kept my inner rumblings within, more willing to suffer and claw my insides than discuss such a personal topic with her.

During my first month stay here, I thought we could be great friends in the distant future. Bella was not near as talkative or gossipy as I, but she seemed so real… solid and sincere. Girls like Jessica despised this beautiful brunette for her quiet grace (and for having Edward Cullen wrapped around her finger). We talked off and on during English, and yet… I had wanted to pull away. The phrase _too good to be true_ rang clearly in my mind like a piccolo tweet.

And, per usual, Bella was up and out of the classroom the millisecond the bell rang. Although, now I was more grateful than annoyed. It gave me space. And space was what I craved.

It was a light, misty drizzle outside, graying the side walks and adding a salty, fishy smell to the air. My poor excuse for shoes – black flats because I couldn't care to search for my rubber boots – made squishy sounds, and my head was strangely cold yet still warm from the hat. The sensation pressed the pounding in my head tenfold, like a drummer beating wildly on my brain.

Through the mist, I could see Mike and Jessica on another connecting sidewalk. Being boyfriend and girlfriend, the initial sight didn't faze me. But when I neared, it was easier to make out the subtle differences in their gaits and arranged faces.

The bubbly bursting of my personality wanted to shout out to them, make them smile rather than frown. But I kept quiet and huddled together. I imagined I hobbled about as if nature would at any moment attempt to take my life.

* * *

><p>Lunch had died down considerably from a week ago. The school no longer swarmed me like chickens to a wounded chick. But today, the off behavior of Jessica and Mike was especially apparent – they were sitting at different tables. Jessica ignored my presence (although, that could arguably be more my fault than hers) and chatted instead with Lauren.<p>

So, sitting with my cheek in hand, I settled for listening to the quickening pace of the wind outside. It started out whistling – a solo flute scaling slowly in the chromatics – and then it rose in crescendo, the flavor of reeds warming the tone. Beneath it, there was the _bump, bump_ of brass adding strength and bite to the high, ringing sound.

Storms could be predicted; they could be spot out in the distance long before they reach you. There are techniques to counting the space between lightning and thunder in order to distinguish distance between you and the giant gray globs of sweaty storm clouds. How wonderful could it be if there was a way – an equation, a method, a theory, a standard – to know the storms of tears before they came?

I could have seen that car crash. I could have warned my parents.

I could have apologized.

_No!_ I couldn't handle thinking like that. Not here.

But, already, the storm clouds were brewing. And the brass beat kept on pounding; the winds kept on twittering.

I blinked back warm wetness and wiped my face. A paper bag would have been nice too – and the knit would work just as well – but appearing weak was an amazing way to attract attention. And, for once, I did not want attention.

_Think of something else_, I coached.

Casting my eyes about the sea of chatty faces, my mind supplied me one word: _Cullen_.

They sat in their typical spot. Bella seemed to be sleeping on Edward's shoulder, and his lips were moving at a languid pace at her ear. Rosalie and Emmet were wrapped tightly against each other, the placement a little more intimate than usual. And Jasper….

I focused my gaze on him and felt a shockwave of surprise.

He was looking at _me_.

The moment our eyes made a solid connection, Jasper looked away. His back tensed, and a curtain fell over his smooth face. It was impossible to glean the reason for his staring.

_Don't get your hopes up, Alice._ I sighed and turned away.

* * *

><p>There was now dread mixed with depression as I entered Biology that afternoon. Though I refused to allow myself to be caught up in Jasper's possible motives, I could not help but feel myself sink lower knowing it amounted to nothing. For all I knew, he simply spaced out into his thoughts. He and Edward did it like pros. And besides, who would want to stare at me – no makeup, no smile, <em>not even hair<em>.

The stool squeaked when I sat solidly on it. I dropped my books onto the tabletop and rested my head there, staring with unseeing eyes as Mr. Banner prepared the white board. A pool of squeamish trepidation wriggled like worms and filled my stomach with horror.

Edward had molded himself into a rocky sitting position beside me. His mouth was turned down – it was only a passing thought – as if he were scowling at me or because of me in some way. But I shook it off and ignored him.

"Alice."

I glanced up, knowing by the uneven grace and deepness of the voice that it was not who I wanted it to be.

Mike gulped past a lump of nervousness it seemed and leaned his elbow on the table. "Hey… look, I was wondering if you'd mind… going with me to the Lodge this Saturday night?"

Hmm, that sentence sounded strange and wrong.

"Aren't you dating Jessica?" I asked. Regardless of how either of us was acting, a girl did not just go out with another girl's boyfriend.

Mike shook his head. And just like that, an awkward silence draped from above. He squirmed with his words, trying to phrase exactly what he needed. But it didn't seem to want to come. Finally, he managed, "We broke up… actually. And I know what you're thinking, but it was mutual." After huffing out those words, his confidence returned, and he stood straighter. "I figured you needed some cheering up, so would you like to go with me?"

Suddenly, I felt an overflow of wariness. I wanted to cringe away from Mike and put Edward between us, the Biology room, the school campus – the whole world. It was definite and sharp, telling my body to stay away and forming my lips as I spoke the ever-dreaded word: "No."

Mike's countenance fell. "Oh. You sure? Is it just a bad weekend?"

I shook my head. "I'm not in the mood for _going out_, Mike. I really want to just be alone right now…."

He nodded as if he understood and wandered back to his seat.

The wariness lifted then. Disorientation replaced it – like I had been spinning at fast speeds and then just stopped.

Across the room, I saw him – saw Jasper. And it was as if he was aware of it, the dizzy twirling of the world. Something in those golden hues were digging through me as we stared, frozen like deer to headlights.

I could have sworn – and had I been more my normal self, I would have – I saw a twinge of green paling his composure. And green was always associated with what?

Envy.

**A/N: There were some awkward parts in here, I'll admit. I hate it when that happens….. So yeah, looks like Jazzy's a little jealous! Why? He probably doesn't even know. But if it makes you feel better, he'll take less time to figure it out than Edward. Speaking of which, you're all going to love the fourteenth chapter; but we have to get through the thirteenth first cause it's pretty important as far as plot goes**

**Also, I won't be able to update more until mid-next week because I have another novel project that is 'due' on Tuesday, so I really have to focus on that; but I have break days coming soon, and that typically means lots of writing for me**

**Until then, feel free to press that motivation button ;-)**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: This is a bit of a filler, but I had to introduce this character; don't worry, though – I make up for it in the next chapter :-D**

Average Car slid into the gray-wet driveway that afternoon, its purr as sad as my wet clothes and ice cold knit. Just the feel of fabric slick and sticky to my skin made me shudder in absolute horror and rain a storm of tears.

_Arizona_. I missed Arizona.

Mom – Mommy.

I wanted my _parents_.

And I was right back where I started, curled up in bed and weeping while the slew of memories ghosted about.

It was strange. Now that they were gone, I suddenly remembered certain things with an almost vivid clarity. The city park when I was in grade school – mom always took me there on Saturdays so we could 'exercise'. The faint, motherly tugs on my black locks as she braided my hair into pretty intricacies. Many birthdays where my parents attempted to surprise me with the exact gift I had dreamed of – mom and dad were terrible at hiding things, so I always found them before the big day. I had enjoyed begging my dad to take me out for ice cream or a 'short' shopping trip after school when it was especially hot.

Little details that seemed to fall away as I grew older and other priorities engulfed them whole.

By the time I could hear Charlie pulling in the driveway, the rivers of wet salt ran dry, and I stared blankly at the ceiling. His familiar heavy steps in the entry way prompted me to sit up. I ran a hand down my face and sniffed, grimacing at the nasally sound I produced. _Ugh._

But then there were more footsteps – unknown.

"….maybe they'll get along well," said Charlie's gruff voice. Then a moment later, "Alice? Are you up there?"

I swallowed the grate in my throat. "Yeah."

There was a moment where I thought to lie. After all, I was far from presentable. But I just didn't want to care about that. It felt almost… _wrong_ to worry if I looked cute or fashionable. At least I was still in school clothes.

Downstairs, there was a sense of lightness, that things were brighter. For some reason I still did not know, Charlie's little house accompanied with it a haunting that had loomed over both Charlie and me. Not feeling the tangible stress created an atmosphere that disoriented me.

In the living room, I could hear three male voices laughing and cheering. Immediately, I recognized that boisterous tone of voice most any male acquired when watching _sports_.

"I can't believe he did that!" said a younger, lifted higher voice. The boy growled loudly after.

I peeked into the living room and gave Charlie a small wave when he noticed me.

"Hey there, kiddo; you wanna watch the game with us?"

Charlie had his arm slung over the couch rest, his back leaning into the back cushion with a relaxed, rare smile on his face. Beside him sat a man in a wheelchair peering up at me through dark eyes. In the dim lighting, his brown skin appeared almost black, especially shadowy beneath the curtain of his black, coarse hair. On the other side of the room was the younger voice I heard. Like black straw, his hair framed each side of the high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and roundish chin. Orbs of obsidian blinked and soft lids crimped as his wide mouth lifted in an honest, innocent smile. The boy had nothing on the white, Renaissance statues of the Cullens, but he was far from ugly.

"Um…" without seemingly thinking to, my nose scrunched up with distaste, and Charlie's guests picked it up quickly. "Maybe some other time."

Charlie nodded. "By the way, Alice, this is my long-time, good friend Billy and his son Jacob. They live up at the Quileute reservation just fifteen minutes form here."

"Nice to meet you," Billy offered. He and Charlie turned back to their game.

His son – Jacob – suddenly seemed uninterested in the score board and jumped up from his seat. "I'm going to get some water. Be right back." As he passed his father, there was a faint snicker from the handicapped man that darkened Jacob's cheeks.

I followed him into the kitchen – nothing else to do – and watched with pursed lips as he ambled around the space with an air of homeliness. He opened the yellow-chipped cupboards absent of hesitancy and didn't pause when he checked the refrigerator like he lived here.

While his glass was filling up with sink water, Jacob gave me a small, shy smile. "So… you're Alice?"

"Yeah… you're Jacob?"

"Black."

"Brandon."

It seemed awkward to add anything else. Despite his relatively tall height (though not past six foot), Jacob was obviously younger than I by more than a few months, perhaps a year. Not as exciting as if he had been my own age.

Jacob was struggling with his thoughts. I garnered he was curious, and he had no clue how to ask me why Charlie suddenly had a teenager living under his roof without offending me.

"I haven't seen you at school," I offered, hoping to relieve us both of the uncomfortable silence.

He shook his head. "I don't go to school here. We have a high school on the rez I attend."

Oh. Okay… so much for _that _tangent.

"What… what grade are you in?" After he spoke, his skin darkened more with embarrassment.

I half-smiled. "I'm currently a junior."

He hid it well, the surprise that widened in his eyes just before he controlled it. A 'But' jumped to the tip of his tongue as he measured my height to my words.

Instead, Jacob settled for a nod and a muttered, "Cool." Then I felt his eyes tilt upward just a tad, and – just like that – the storm could be hear rumbling in the distance. The curiosity surmounted in his gangly body, trying to piece together the Alice puzzle.

Scrutiny. No – I wouldn't be examined like a bug under a microscope. I could already see the shift in Jacob's attitude. Probably he thought I had cancer. Pity danced in the black of his irises. Suddenly, I was an alien, an outsider – someone to treat with caution and difference.

Never before had I shunned attention. How ironic it would now be showered on me like a waterfall.

"Nice to meet you," I bit out. Need to get out – get out.

Jacob tried to call me back but his attempt ended abruptly part-way through the sentence. It spoke loudly in the cutoff – he didn't know me, didn't know what was wrong.

Somewhere inside me, I knew I was being irrational. But I couldn't shake off the sudden panic that hit me. In my room, I ripped the knit off my head and threw it to the ground. A band of skin around my skull was warm and sticky. I clenched my fists and squeezed closed my eyes, trying to fight off everything.

In the distance, percussion rumbled, and the woodwinds trilled.

**A/N: Pressing the Motivation button with the 'R' down there = more influence and desire to write = faster update = happier both of us! **


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: I'm a little half-in-half with this chapter…. Good parts and some confusing parts. Jasper is being confusing! -_- He made like fifty different decisions during the course of this either very creepy-stalker chapter, or… well, Jasper-y chapter**

**JPOV**

Talkin' myself out of this was becomin' no use. I just couldn't push the notion outta my head. Not after what I saw today, what I felt. Structure told me to figure this out – shine the light in every nook 'n cranny and leave nothin' more to the wind.

Edward's steel resolve stalked me, reminded me. I couldn't let anythin' catch me off guard, especially the tiny human girl. Her presence threatened to knock down every wall I had so meticulously built up brick by brick. I checked it, reinforced it, only made the breech of exception with the Cullens – and after, sealed the wall shut and sturdy like a mountain.

Jealousy. Such a strange reaction. And to the Newton kid, no less. Well – not to him, but to how he spoke, his intentions. To have felt the jade emotion as so plainly my own rather than radiatin' off another completely threw me.

"_This girl is different?"_

"_No, Esme. She's not… special."_

Had I lied then? Was Edward right to worry? Should I hide myself away before I hurt the girl – Alice?

I couldn't _not_ know.

It would leave me vulnerable. A soldier slackin' in his stance when called to Attend-_hut_!

And I was not a slacker.

Edward said nothin' when I left the house that night. Though I had no doubt he would have 'words' for me when I got back.

The idea made me want to scoff. 'Words' as if I was his child. That was not an attitude that would last.

Tonight, the storm winds were bearing arms; the thick, dark gray clouds were stuffing their muskets. Any minuet now, and the clash of armies – weather and earth – would explode in a furry of igniting gun powder and heavy screams. Trees scurried and slapped the pelting arsenal that pierced their hides. Spectators blinked from afar, in awe of the war that steadily rolled toward them.

It was nothin' to me now. I passed beneath the eaves of bending trees without pause or glance at the icy liquid spearing my stony skin. The dirt knew no touch from me.

Chief Charlie Swan's home was black when I arrived. The part slush and rail pounded with relentless strength against the old, shingled armor. Inside, the sounds of the battalion would be intense and threatening. Concern punched through the hard shell of determination and focus – concern for dainty, tiny Alice who appeared as a mocking bird before the barrel of a shotgun.

Refocus.

The front door would be locked. Not a problem – but leaving it intact was. There was a second-story window, yellow curtains draped over. A bedroom, most likely Alice's (I had high doubts the Chief of Police would have yellow, lacey curtains on his bedroom window).

In half a second, I scaled the side of the house and griped the window eave. I lifted my torso high enough to see into the hairsbreadth parting of the faded curtains. Gun powder exploded, and the bedroom lit up. All I could make out was the outline of Alice's bedside.

Not enough.

Just as I was about to ease open the window, I stopped – a hesitance, an uncertainty.

It occurred to me that I was about to enter a young woman's _bedroom_. A most indecent act, indeed. Though I knew my intentions were sound, there was no way of knowing if some random act of fate would go and screw the equation.

I sighed, clearing my head.

Refocus: figure out this girl so she has no upper hand with me.

The window creaked with disuse, the sharp noise cutting a grimace into my face. The last thing I was needin' was for Alice to wake up and catch me.

Slipping inside, I was immediately walled with her floral, mouth-watering scent. Another factor I had hastily pushed aside.

I stilled my lungs, but it was too late. Thick as fog, it lingered hot and moist on the back of my tongue, feeding the fiery cords of my throat.

She was so _close_.

All I had to do….

_Take those last few steps. Pull back the afghan. Kneel by her side. Put my mouth to the curve of her throat…. Inhale the warm, pulsing anticipation…. _

_ Bite. _

I stood frozen, locked in the battle field. How could I consider hurtin' this girl – Alice? Guilt consumed me, pierced my dead heart. Curled in the fetal position, Alice whimpered – as if she knew how nearly her life could have ended.

_She's depressed!_ The vampire argued. _You know she wouldn't mind dyin', not in the least!_

But Edward was right. She had a life to live. She was not the first to feel such crippling pain., nor the last. But, then again, would she ever _not_ feel it? It worried me and took my mind off the internal battle. I knew better than most how easy it was to say "I'll get over it next week, next month", but then to struggle like a smoker getting rid of it.

Alice tossed in her mattress, tilting her round, petite head towards me. Her heart-shaped lips bloomed rose red. They trembled, squishing into a pout that shot another bullet through my armor – a fatal one. Beads of sweat matted her pale skin. Her brows scrunched. A moan shivered in her mouth.

She did not wear a hat to cover the scar on her head, and it glared at me with puckered lips. To see any woman bald was a strange concept for me, but, with Alice, I was inclined to feel hurt. So young and to feel so less of yourself – like a man without his legs or an arm.

I could relate with Alice. Though I had not lost my parents the same as she, I had – at the time – felt that I had lost myself. Having already lost two brothers, her father, and an uncle during the early period of the Civil War, my mother had forbid me joining the ranks. But it had fallen on deaf ears. Visionary and full of hubris, I had run away from home to find what I thought I had lost to my mother. It was too late by the time I realized how foolish the idea was. I'd met Maria. I'd become a vampire.

Edging back towards the window, I made a decision that night – a decision that ultimately changed me.

I was unable to raise the dead or replace her parents, but perhaps I could fill a gap in her life through friendship. If I was careful and completely focused, I could use my ability for good in the best of ways.

And give Alice Brandon her life back.

**A/N: Talk about Plot Accelerator. Which is good, considering we aren't even halfway through this book; I haven't outlined all the way to the end, but let's just say I have about five or so pages of TNR font, size 11, singled spaced, and I'm only on page one still O_o**

**Don't forget the motivation button…. I'll need it to push me through a nasty book report… ugh…..**


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